


Blind As A Bat

by spinner33



Series: Harry Potter Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 87,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: Harry is having a rotten summer between his fifth and sixth years. Once back at Hogwarts, the school year doesn’t get any better. He’s experiencing precognitive dreams, and he’s starting to sense things about people when he touches their personal items. If that’s not bad enough, the new Dark Arts instructor appears to fancy him, and Professor Snape is being nice to him. It’s enough to make anyone a bit jumpy.As luck would have it, Severus Snape is also having a rotten year. His long-estranged, presumed-dead wife has surfaced to ask him for a divorce. The new Dark Arts instructor clearly has a fancy for Harry, and Snape is trying to protect the stupid boy from her. He finds that protecting Harry might mean he has to be kind to him. *ick*Set between fifth and sixth years.  AU.  Very AU.  Boy howdy, is this AU.  Yup.





	1. Rather A Similar Line of Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Posting my old Harry Potter fics from years ago. Warning: this is a work of fiction which contains slash/slashy scenes, vampirism, foreign words and phrases, ill-advised acrobatics, discussion of child abuse, insinuation of child sexual abuse, explosions, cat death, pirates, various random acts of violence and humor. If this makes you at all squeamish, this probably is not the story for you.

It was so much easier than he’d ever imagined it could be. Harry had accompanied the Dursleys to London for a shopping excursion. Dudley was getting presents for having dropped a few pounds. While they were bustling here and there from shop to shop, Harry had merely lingered back, and then slipped away. Quietly. Without being noticed whatsoever. All he had with him were the things he would need– the key to his Gringotts vault and his wand. Harry had locked all his personal possessions into his school trunk, and that trunk was locked away in his cupboard. Hedwig had been sent ahead with a note for Ron.

_Ron- Don’t worry. I’ll contact you as soon as I can. -Harry_

He was preparing to lose himself in the anonymity of Muggle London, not afraid, not really, of running into anything in the normal world that would be any more frightening than what he had faced in the wizarding world. If he could avoid running into anyone who knew him from school or from the continual articles in the wizarding newspapers, if he could lay low long enough to be able to slip into Gringotts tomorrow morning, get a bit of traveling money, then he would be able to escape them all. He’d finally be free from the pressure. Be away from the dreams that hadn’t let him get a good night’s rest in over a month. He’d never have to go back to the Dursleys again, never.

Strangely enough, another wizard loose in Muggle London was entertaining a rather similar line of thought at nearly the same moment that Harry slipped away. Severus Snape had been awakened early by a clap of thunder and the appearance of Jupiter, his father’s messenger owl. The cursed creature had dropped the note at the foot of Severus’s bed, and had given him a nasty look before it vanished again. The shrunken heads on the shelf near the bed began to mumble among themselves. Snape could feel six little eyes on him as he opened the note and quickly read the enclosed words.

_Severus – Do please meet Professor Malkus in London today. He will be in the usual place, and he will give you a book for me. Jupiter will return for the book tomorrow. Hope all is well with you. Thank you- Father_

Snape’s day went downhill from there. To his surprise, the Headmaster had thought that a day trip to London might be just the thing for Severus, and sent him on his way directly after breakfast. McGonagall had asked him to give her best to Professor Malkus, but she couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, tell him the topic of the book his father seemed so anxious to acquire. Flitwick had given Snape a small list of items to purchase in Diagon Alley, and because there was no polite way he could refuse the request, and because Flitwick was a likeable enough person, Snape agreed. Hagrid would also be going into the city later in the day, and offered to meet Snape around seven for dinner. His whole day was planned out for him, whether he liked it or not. 

Once he stepped off the train (mental note– repairs taking place on the Floo Network– could be weeks) and made his way into the annoyingly perky sunshine, Severus had thought it would be so easy, so very easy, to slip away unnoticed into the crowd and never go back. He had all he needed with him– his wand and his key to his Gringotts vault. Although working at Hogwarts carried certain privileges– pampered children to torment; an expansive dungeon; the best supply of potion ingredients from here to Iceland– there were times when Severus couldn’t help but feel he was kept on a very short leash. When he felt this claustrophobic, he had an almost overwhelming urge to flee. But when he turned one particular corner, he found himself staring down the street and recognizing the back of one of the last people he would have expected to find wandering around in Muggle London on his own, in broad daylight, unaccompanied, unprotected, vulnerable as a naked newborn.

What in the hell was Harry Potter doing here?

Snape had three hours before his meeting with Professor Malkus, and reasoned there was plenty of time to tail Potter and see what the brat was up to (no good, no doubt!) Severus followed the boy block by block, getting closer in the crowd. How wonderful it would make him feel to pull out his wand and give the boy a reason to live in mortal fear. More fear than he had ever known before, least ways. After all the things that had transpired so recently, how could Harry even think of wandering around like this? Where was that group of wizarding weirdos that was supposed to be watching over the boy?

After following him for an hour, Severus was close enough to take in more details about the boy, once he got past his initial anger. Harry was walking rather stiffly and slowly, wasn’t he? The boy stopped to get a drink and use the restroom in a store. Severus tailed him inside, observing while unobserved. Harry washed his hands and face in the small sink, but it did nothing to improve his looks. From the shadows, Snape caught his breath.

Harry’s right cheek bore a large bruise, and it looked as if he had been punched or slapped in the mouth. There were faint marks around his wrists. He was scruffy and unwashed, and very pale. His stiff movements made Snape assume there must be more contusions under his shabby, dirty, over-sized clothes. 

Severus tailed Harry out of this store and for another few blocks, debating what he should do. Contact the Headmaster? Take the boy by the collar and shake him around and then contact the Headmaster? The teen entered the door to a cheap hotel and went up to the counter. Snape made himself narrow against the window as he strained to hear the conversation between Harry and the owner. 

"I was wondering about your room rates."

"You’re alone?" the man grumped. Snape seconded the thought. 

"I’m supposed to meet up with family later, but they don’t arrive until tomorrow."

"The rooms are...."

Severus didn’t hear how much the rooms cost, but didn’t need to know. The impact the words made on Harry’s face assured him the boy didn’t have however much they were asking. Harry thanked the man and wandered out the door again, head downcast and face a mask of worry. Snape waited for him to pass by, and followed him quickly.

Harry had run away from home – Severus’s jaw dropped at the very idea– and he was looking for a place to hide over night?! Why tomorrow? What happened tomorrow? Severus touched his own Gringotts key in his pocket and instinctively knew what Harry must be planning. With less than two hours until his meeting with Professor Malkus, Severus decided he needed to act fast. He could no longer ignore the obvious– if he didn’t intervene, Harry was going to get himself into trouble or worse. He had to get a hold of the boy and get him to a safe location before he got hurt.

Harry entered another hotel close by, where he conversed with the middle-aged woman at the counter. She handed him a leaflet and began to talk emphatically. Harry extracted himself from her grip and all but fled the place. Upon his exit, he collided with the tall dark form that blocked his escape.


	2. Teens in Crisis

"This isn’t what it looks like," Harry said, his voice tense and defensive. Severus glanced up from his plate and lifted his glass for a quick drink. He swallowed the first words that came into his mind, and settled for a small bit of sarcasm instead of out-right launching at the boy in anger. After all, he didn’t want to alienate the child any further, did he? 

"I’m relieved to hear it. For a moment there, I was under the impression you were running away from home, trying to get yourself killed and stuffed and mounted on a certain dark lord’s study wall."

Harry pushed food around his plate, saying nothing. He was boiling underneath it all though. No one in the restaurant seemed overly surprised by Harry’s behavior. It must have been relatively normal for Muggle teens to sit around looking sullen and angry. Snape broke off a piece of bread and regarded Potter. The boy had grown another two inches probably in one month’s time. Was that even possible? He was taller, yes, but thinner as well. Weren’t those Muggles feeding the boy? Severus spooned more potatoes onto Harry’s plate, giving him a challenging look that dared him to protest.

"Eat your lunch," Snape murmured.

"What are you doing here in London?" Harry asked sulkily.

"I have an appointment with a friend of my father’s. Professor Flitwick asked me to collect a few supplies for him. Hagrid will be meeting me for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron later, around seven. The last train leaves around 8:45 p.m."

Harry’s eyes went wide with panic, and he tensed up in his chair.

"Hagrid’s here too? Are you following me?" he squeaked.

"No. I had no idea you would be here."

"You won’t make me go back," Harry said defiantly, pushing his plate away. 

"My dear Mr. Potter, I’m in no mood for this. Eat your lunch and quit trying to provoke me."

"You can take me back, but I’ll leave again. I won’t be at Privet Drive more than an hour later."

Severus’s eyes went to the leaflet lying on the table under Harry’s napkin. Alternatives for Teens in Crisis. Potter was nothing if not that, Snape smirked. But what had caused this particular crisis, that was the burning question. Harry made a face, and with a trembling hand, lifted his fork and speared a piece of chicken.

"Not taking me back," he muttered, tearing the flesh to smaller pieces. 

"No? If Privet Drive is not to your liking, I can think of a dozen different places I’d rather put you."

"Like where?" Harry snarled.

"A cell at Azkaban Prison. An oubliette in a particularly distant French castle. A dark trunk in my office. Eat your lunch."

"I’m....I’m not hungry. You won’t make me go back. I’ll fight. I’ll scream. I’ll make such a scene you’ll get arrested by the police. I’ll...." Harry’s eyes widened with renewed panic as he rambled. He was very obviously terrified of the prospect of returning to Privet Drive. Snape’s keen sense told him something was wrong here besides the usual teen angst.

"Eat your lunch," he said calmly. Harry shivered and put down his fork, folding his hands under his legs. He stared at Severus with an expression that Voldemort would have envied. Malevolence colored his eyes a shade of green like no other.

***

Harry and Severus made their way through the train station at eight-thirty. Damn Floo repairs. Severus had a rather firm grip on Harry’s arm, and not without reason. He had spent the better part of the later afternoon running through the streets of London in pursuit of the teen, who had managed to escape him not once, not twice, but three times. It was a good thing Harry didn’t know the fine art of apparition yet. If he had, there’d’ve been no way Snape would have caught him.

Under his other arm, Snape carried the book that Professor Malkus had given him. It was wrapped discretely in brown paper. The man was an old friend of his father’s, one that went back so many years with the Snape Family that he had felt comfortable calling Severus by his given name and talking to him in the same condescending paternalistic tone his father always took with him, on the rare occasions they actually met one another. He made Severus strangely uncomfortable, and Snape couldn’t get away from the man fast enough. 

Harry was carrying the parcels that contained Professor Flitwick’s supplies, and kept struggling to the end of Snape’s grasp. But if he got more than a comfortable distance, Severus yanked him back a step, and not tenderly either. Potter was shaking from head to toe with the fury consuming him from the inside out. Severus almost felt a pang of pity for him. Almost.

"You missed me at dinner....and....I see why. Harry? What are you doing here?" Hagrid asked as he approached them unseen from behind. Severus released his grip on Harry as Hagrid pulled the boy into a one-armed squeeze. Harry buried himself in the giant’s grasp, missing the questioning look Hagrid was giving Snape. The Potions Master shrugged and turned slightly away, taking hold of the packages Harry had been carrying so they wouldn’t drop to the ground. Hagrid ruffled Harry’s wild locks and bumped a hand under his chin. 

"It’s good to see you," Harry said, his voice shaking.

"What happened to you?" Hagrid demanded.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

"You been running into trouble at the Dursleys?" Hagrid asked. Harry nodded awkwardly. Rubeus could not miss the dark glare Harry was giving Snape. "Lucky you found the Professor then, eh?"

"We ran into each other quite unintentionally," Severus said coolly. Harry stood on Hagrid’s other side, well out of Snape’s reach. Hagrid jerked his chin and head at Snape, and the Potions Master pretended to suddenly be very interested in the Muggle train parked behind them. Out of one eye, Severus watched Harry and Hagrid’s reflections in the grayed windows. The giant leaned as far down as he could to be on eye-level with the teen.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Hagrid asked. Harry’s chin went down, and he shook his head no frantically. For a painful moment, Severus was sure the boy was about to start crying. Hagrid sensed this too. He stood back up and glanced around the station. "Come on then. We’re going to miss the train."

"I’m not going back to them," Harry whispered. Hagrid looked back down as Snape glared hotly Potter.

"We’ll talk to Dumbledore and see what he thinks, shall we?" Hagrid suggested.

"I’m not going back," Harry repeated.

"No. There’s no point in arguing that with you here. I can see that," the giant smiled a bit. "Let’s get ourselves a seat, unless you favor walking."

They quickly got settled into a compartment near the back of the correct train. No one was in the mood to talk. Harry sat beside Hagrid, squeezed against the window by the giant’s large form. It would have made much more sense for Harry to sit beside Snape, but Harry had made it clear he’d rather sit by Hagrid, even at the price of a couple cracked ribs. Severus piled Flitwick’s parcels and his father’s book into the space beside himself. If the annoying boy would rather sit with Hagrid, that was perfectly fine by Severus. Perfectly fine. 

Within the hour, Harry was leaning against Hagrid, his eyes drooping sleepily. Good for Hagrid, Severus thought, staring back and forth between Harry and his father’s book. Who wanted a snotty, lumpy teen snoring against him, drooling on his cloak? Severus pulled the twine around the wrapped book taut, then let it snap back. Harry jumped, and Hagrid gave Severus a dirty look. It wasn’t five minutes later, Harry was settled again, asleep on Hagrid. The giant slid the boy’s glasses off his nose, and secreted them into one of the many pockets in his furry cloak. Severus rolled his eyes theatrically as Hagrid smoothed Harry’s shirt and straightened his hair.

"The Headmaster will tell you to take him back to Privet Drive," Severus said quietly as he pulled the twine taut. He was about to let it snap again but Hagrid’s low growl made him change his mind. 

"I suspect he might," Hagrid nodded.

"Where are Moody and the rest of his little pack? They’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the boy."

"I dunno," Hagrid answered honestly. 

"You shouldn’t coddle him so," Severus added, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Harry whimpered in his sleep. He buried his face in Hagrid’s cloak, and the sounds died away. Hagrid looked up at the light above them, and then at Snape.

"Not coddling anyone," Hagrid protested, rubbing Harry’s back gently. "Could you dim the light a bit?"

"The wards are strongest at Privet Drive. That’s where he’ll be safest," Severus murmured, trying to be the voice of reason here. Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was waiting. Severus let his wand tip exit his cloak sleeve, and with a soft murmur, the light above dimmed ever-so-slightly. "Perhaps you’d like me to hum a lullaby as well?" he asked darkly, allowing a catty smile to cross his mouth.

Was this jealousy he was feeling? Why did it matter so much that Harry preferred sitting with Hagrid? If the boy didn’t trust Severus enough to sit beside him, then who was to blame but Harry for his own paranoia? Why did Severus want Harry to trust him anyway? Maybe after all they’d been through, after all he’d tried to do for the boy, he had hoped in vain they might begin to build trust between them? Maybe it stung Severus to realize that Harry’s first impulse was to put as much distance between himself and Snape as possible. Severus had tried to prove himself time and again to the boy. Was there nothing he could do to win Harry’s trust short of falling on a sword?

"Well, he might be safe from Voldemort at Privet, but what about safe from the Dursleys?" Hagrid muttered, peering down Harry’s collar. Even from this distance, Severus could see the livid bruises that stretched down Harry’s back. He could almost feel the pain each blow caused, drawn in shades of black and purple. 

"I’m not saying the Muggles will win any ‘family of the year’ awards. But the protection of blood magic is far stronger than anything at Hogwarts," Severus said. "And the Headmaster is about to go on his first vacation in several years. You have duties to tend to. McGonagall’s got her hands full with preparing for the upcoming term. Most of the other professors are busy with preparing lesson plans. Who exactly is going to watch Mr. Potter while you’re busy?"

Severus continued to pull at the twine. It broke with the sound of a cracking whip, biting him sharply. The thick paper fluttered to the floor of the compartment, and the twine dangled limply from Snape’s long fingers. Hagrid mumbled to himself, putting both arms around Harry in order to quell the shivering that overtook the boy. 

"Why would your father want that book so badly that he’d ask you to traipse all the way to London for it?" Hagrid asked. 

"Didn’t you know? The universe revolves around my father," Severus quipped, picking up the tome and pulled it into his grip. "Continuing Explorations into the World of the Paranormal by Professor Miles Malkus," he murmured. 

"It’s a Muggle book about the paranormal?" Hagrid’s bushy brows went up. "Odd, isn’t it? That a wizard would publish a book for Muggle consumption."

"Malkus likes to think of himself as cutting-edge and controversial."

"That runs a fine line with exposing our secrets to Muggles, doesn’t it?"

"Doesn’t matter when you’re Malkus. He can live easily in one world or the other, and it doesn’t matter to him which." 

"Well, go on then. Give a look at the contents. That is what you were after, wasn’t it?"

"No, I...."

"Might as well have handed it to you unwrapped, for all the good it did," Hagrid teased a bit. Severus almost smiled back.

"Oh, it’s the usual. Ghosts and spirits. Ghouls and goblins. Fairies and Elves. Werewolves. Things that go Bump in the Night. Vampires?"

"If your father was feeling homesick for familiar things, it’s not like you couldn’t go to the library and pull out several dozen texts on vampires, for vampires, by vampires, and send them to him," Hagrid said.

"True," Snape admitted. He whipped to a back chapter and flipped through the pages, going scarlet and white in quick succession. He took several quick breaths, and before he could stop himself, he blurted the words on his tongue in a tangled, deadly whisper. "I’m going to hunt him down and– rip him– into---"

Severus stood up before he remembered he was on a train in motion. He was quickly thrown back down into his seat. He slammed the book shut, threw it on the floor, and gave it a satisfying kick for good measure.

"Mina," Hagrid said. Snape shot a fiery glance at the giant. Hagrid answered the glare with a smirk. "He found her, didn’t he?"

"Don’t call her that. She never liked that nickname," Snape replied acidly, his eyes narrowing possessively. 

"Did he talk to Illumina?" Hagrid asked. Severus snatched the book from the train floor. He opened to a particular illustration, and flashed it at Rubeus. "Yep, that’s her all right. She hasn’t aged a day. Of course, she wouldn’t, but all the same."

"The book was completed six months ago. She’s still alive," Severus whispered, beginning to flip pages. "Er....sort of," he amended under his breath.

"Your father knows this is a sensitive spot for you. Why would he ask you to get this for him if he knew it would upset you?" Hagrid asked. Severus coughed up a dark laugh that made Harry whimper again in his sleep.

"How can you be so naive? He asked me to get it for him because he hoped it would upset me!" Snape growled, putting the book aside again. 

"How long has it been since you heard from her?" Hagrid was beginning to sound more sympathetic.

"She hasn’t kept in touch. She insisted it isn’t healthy for me to live in the past. The question is how Malkus (of all people, that idiot!) how Malkus managed to locate her when I tried for more than a decade and found no trace of her."

"He spent fifty years as a Tracker for the Ministry of Mysteries. He learned a bit about finding people from that, I’m guessing," Hagrid tried very hard not to smile.

"What time is it?" Snape wanted to know.

"Nearly midnight," Hagrid said. "See, train’s coming to a stop now. We’ll be there soon. Hope Dumbledore’s still awake."

"Nearly midnight," Severus muttered. "What time is it in Tasmania?" 

"Haven’t got a clue," Hagrid shrugged.

"When Jupiter returns, I’m going to fricassee him," Severus growled under tone. "Is there any possible way for this day to get any worse?"

"Venturing a guess, I’d say yes," Hagrid said. 

The train was stopped. Jets of steam were rising. On the platform visible out their window, Severus saw Professor McGonagall, looking grim. She held Hedwig aloft on one arm. Standing next to her was the Headmaster himself, wearing an expression of utter serenity. On Dumbledore’s other side stood Mad-Eye Moody, who looked as if he had recently undergone fire-fighter training. His hair was standing on end, black as pitch, and his already-dicey appearance was like that of a signed matchstick.


	3. Misplaced Maternal Instincts

Harry sat staring at his hands in his lap as Mad-Eye Moody and Dumbledore paced around each other in the Headmaster’s Office. McGonagall was standing by the window, staring out over the grounds before facing the room once more. Hedwig sat on the Headmaster’s desk, casting apologetic glances at Harry that he refused to acknowledge. She lighted over to him, brushing his hair with her wing on her way out the door. 

"Was the house totally demolished?" Dumbledore asked.

"The house?" Moody laughed, a tinge of insanity peeking through. "The block was leveled, Albus. Not much left but splinters and ash, and a completely-intact school trunk."

"Which you will find in my office, Mr. Potter," McGonagall interjected.

"Thank you," Harry whispered without looking up. 

"Was anyone hurt?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Dursleys were in London still, having dinner. I’ve sent part of the team to search for suitable lodging while the rebuilding takes place."

"Anyone else?"

"Arabella lost a cat, but other than that, I’d say we were lucky, damned lucky," Moody growled. 

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"One of Voldemort’s spies must have seen the Dursleys in London without Harry, and assumed he must be at the house alone," Moody replied.

"How did they get around the wards?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"Underground," Harry whispered.

"What?" Dumbledore stopped and faced him.

"Last night....I....the ground......I...." Harry was struggling for words.

"Go on," McGonagall said, coming over and sitting down in the chair beside him.

"I dreamed about being locked underground."

"The wards extend underground too, Harry," Dumbledore explained gently.

"I dreamed about being in a coffin," Harry added. McGonagall put a hand on his hand and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. 

"As soon as the house is rebuilt, we’ll set up the watch again," Mad-Eye said, ignoring Harry. Neither Dumbledore nor Potter was paying attention to him.

"Madam Pomfrey is away on a small holiday, but not to worry. We’ll get someone to take a look at you," McGonagall offered. Harry didn’t respond aloud. He nodded, holding his tongue. 

"You’re very quiet tonight, Harry," the Headmaster added. The teen kept silent. Dumbledore watched him, staring over the top of his half-moon spectacles and waiting.

"I’ll pop over to Privet Drive and see how repairs are coming along," Moody grumbled. Dumbledore nodded. 

"Report back as soon as repairs are complete," Dumbledore said.

"Of course," Moody agreed. With that, he was gone. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and stared at Harry, waiting yet, it seemed. Fawkes stretched his wings and settled into a comfortable position on his perch. Somewhere in the office, a series of small, metallic ‘pings’ went off. Harry tensed, and McGonagall stroked his hand.

"I’ll see you to the hospital wing," Minerva said. Dumbledore nodded in agreement. Harry slowly pulled himself to his feet and shuffled out the door.

***

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said slowly, her back to him. "You will remove your clothes and put on that robe."

"Madam Pomfrey doesn’t make me get out of my clothes," Harry protested, holding the thin gown in one hand.

"Put on the robe, Harry."

"Why can’t I just go to sleep and someone can look at me tomorrow?"

"Don’t make me get out my wand, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. When she turned around again, Harry was in the robe and under the covers of the bed, holding the sheet and blanket up to his chin. It was all Minerva could do not to smile.

"I didn’t know you had training as a healer," he murmured, blushing hotly.

"I don’t."

"Then why are you here with me?"

"I remained to be supportive," she sighed. 

"Thank you," Harry whispered, humbled. "Where did Professor Dumbledore send Hagrid off to? Will he be back?"

"Hagrid will be back by morning," she promised.

"Why were there trunks in the Headmaster’s office?" Harry wanted to know.

"He’s going on holiday. Supposed to leave tomorrow. Today. Later this morning," she corrected herself.

"Oh."

"We do occasionally leave Hogwarts, every once in a while," McGonagall smiled. Harry nodded that he understood that. "I’ll have to see how I can entertain you until term starts."

"I don’t expect to be entertained," Harry blushed.

"I use the term ‘entertained’ loosely, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I should have said ‘busy’ or ‘out of trouble’. You will not be left to your own devices." 

"Why not?"

"I left your father and Sirius Black alone for one night one summer. I had to reassemble the top three floors of Gryffindor Tower. Do you have any idea how time-consuming that was?"

"No," Harry shook his head. He winced and looked away. Clearly the topic of Sirius Black was not one McGonagall should have touched. She sighed again, wishing she could say something more constructive and less troubling. 

"I suggest once you’ve been cleared medically that you write back to Mr. Weasley. He was frantic when he got your note."

"How did you find out?"

"I happened to have been visiting with Arthur and Molly about one of the Dark Arts applicants, and about you. They asked about having you over to their house for a few days," she ventured.

"Oh," Harry worried. "Considering what’s been going on at the Dursleys, I’d rather stay here, if that’s all the same."

"And what’s been going on at the Dursleys?" she asked.

"I’d rather not say," Harry whispered. "If I go to the Burrow, you may as well paint a target on the roof. I won’t....I don’t want to endanger Ron or his family. I mean, I’d rather stay here, if it’s possible."

"Of course it is," she said immediately. It made Minerva wince that Harry even thought for a moment she would abandon him. 

"Thank you. You’re very good to me, Professor."

"I take my pledge to protect my students very seriously," she whispered, her throat tight. "While there are certain students who need more specialized attention than average, that doesn’t change my commitment to them."

"It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one you’ve had trouble with over the years," Harry whispered. He ventured a faint smile. "How did they do it?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"How did my father and Sirius blow up Gryffindor Tower?"

"Your father got his hands on a Muggle manual for making time-delayed detonation devices," Minerva said, clasping her hands and making a sour face. "Naturally Sirius was very keen to try it out. Their attempt proved to be a smashing success. Madam Pomfrey had to put three of James’ fingers back on. It took us over two hours to find one of those fingers. Poppy wasn’t happy about it. The finger didn’t want to reattach correctly at first. The boys were joking about giving it a burial in the family plot. Finally we got it back on, and then James and Sirius spent weeks making jokes about giving everyone the ‘finger’."

Harry smiled a hint and rubbed his eyes tiredly. 

"Wonder what’s taking Professor Snape so long to get here," McGonagall said. 

Before Harry could finish sputtering in horror, the door to the hospital wing opened. Snape swept inside like a big black bat blown adrift by a blustering storm. It didn’t take psychic powers to see he was in a foul temper. He slammed the door and leaned against it, turning an icy gaze on Harry and McGonagall. Harry had nothing but pity for the poor little house elf who had had the unenviable task of disturbing the Potions Master when he was clearly in a mood and a half.

"Where have you been?" Minerva scolded. "It’s been twenty minutes since I sent for you."

"I’m busy," Snape muttered.

"It’s one in the morning, Severus. How busy could you be? Don’t talk to me about busy. I’ve had the latest Dark Arts applicant waiting in my office for three hours now."

"Odd time for a job interview, isn’t it?" Snape puzzled. Harry couldn’t help but agree.

"This particular candidate had certain time constraints. This was the only convenient time for her."

"Ah," Snape dismissed. Harry watched McGonagall lower her eyes away from Snape’s, leveling them instead on Harry. Potter had the sudden revelation that she was hiding something from him, and couldn’t help but wonder what it was. 

"Where have you been? What have you been doing?" McGonagall continued from before. 

"Having a glass of scotch. Breaking things. Having another glass of scotch. I plan to go back and break more things."

"Do get over here," Minerva said. Severus regarded Harry suddenly with even less humor in his mood.

"Wait," Snape said. He had finally put two and two together apparently.

"What?" McGonagall said.

"You’re here because he’s here, and he’s here because he’s ALWAYS here. But why am I here?"

"Harry needs medical attention."

"He looks perfectly fine to me," Snape said crossly.

"See, I told you I was all right," Harry blurted.

"Severus," Minerva said, "you are more than capable of filling in while Madam Pomfrey is away."

"I’m sorry, but you’re apparently confusing me with an entirely different Snape. I’m the Potions Master, Severus Snape. You’ll be wanting the Healer, Mesarik Snape, and you can find him in Tasmania."

"What is your father doing in Tasmania? Is he still trying to find himself?"

"What do you think he’s doing there?" Severus snorted. "Penance. He’s there making good. Saving the world. Comforting those in distress. Paving his way into the afterlife with good deeds."

"Exactly how much scotch have you had, Severus?" Minerva asked bluntly. 

"Enough to know I shouldn’t be attempting any healing tonight," Snape replied.

"Make sure Harry is all right, and if he needs healing, you can do it as soon as you’re sober," she fussed. "Get a move on. I’m in no mood for your petulance."

"Mr. Potter?" Severus crept several feet closer to Harry.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have you any life-threatening injuries, gaping wounds, severed limbs, oozing sores, or other emergency maladies physical or mental or magical in origin that will somehow impede your ability to continue to exist for twelve hours or so?"

"No, sir."

"Would you like one?" Severus asked, towering over Harry with a fierce gleam in his dark eyes. 

"You read the book, didn’t you?" Minerva asked, putting her hands on her hips. Severus blinked at her, and pursed his lips into a tight line. 

"I may have accidentally opened it, yes."

"Illumina said you’d never be able to resist the temptation." 

"I don’t think this is the time or the place to be discussing my personal life, thank you," Severus bristled. "But you knew! SWEET MERLIN! Is there a single one of you that didn’t know about this except me?" 

"I didn’t know," Harry put in. After giving him a glance that scoured off a layer of skin, Severus ignored Harry.

"You spoke to her?" Snape questioned McGonagall, suddenly more dangerously quiet. 

"I understand why you’re angry with your father, but it’s no reason to get falling down drunk and make a spectacle of yourself in front of one of our students," McGonagall whispered, darting her eyes at Harry and back at Severus. 

"Have I in any way damaged your already woeful impression of me, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked the boy. Harry shook his head no, looking as grim as he could in spite of a sudden and seriously-life-threatening desire to smile. 

"No, sir."

"There. You see?" Severus said to Minerva. "When did you speak to her? Where did you speak?"

"I’m going to sober you up," McGonagall replied, taking out her wand. 

"You will not make me sober! Do you realize how much that scotch cost?" Severus fumed. Harry really hoped she wouldn’t. This was rather entertaining. He’d never seen Snape so much as tipsy, let alone angry-drunk. He was nothing like Uncle Vernon when he’d had too many. Vernon stumbled around like a blind bull elephant. Severus became irritated and serpentine, and rather sharp-tongued.

"If you want to be angry with your father, I’m perfectly happy to oblige you, but I would like to suggest you take a more constructive approach to dealing with this anger. You can’t let it take over your life and destroy you. Drinking?! Honestly, Severus."

McGonagall rapped him hard on the forearm with her wand and glared at him as she waited for her spell to sink in. 

"Are things any clearer yet?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. That was a damned waste of perfectly good liquor," Snape complained, holding his arm where she had whacked at him. 

"Can I trust you to see to Mr. Potter without any further indignant protests?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Tell me about this Dark Arts applicant you’ve got waiting for you."

"I think not!" Minerva laughed quickly and nervously. Snape stared at her, and lifted his chin, steeling his jaw and clenching his teeth together. 

"Perhaps you could even let me have a glance at the list of all the applicants."

"Oh!"

"A small glance. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll make sure your little Gryffindor isn’t going to expire, and you let me see the list."

"Severus, the last time I let you see who was applying for the Dark Arts position, a third of the applicants were dead inside a week."

"The flu season was dreadful that year."

"Another third had a sudden change of heart about accepting the job."

"Teaching isn’t a calling for the meek at heart."

"And we got stuck with Gilderoy Lockhart!"

"How exactly am I to blame for that?"

"You helped him ace the interview, hoping to prove yourself superior by comparison, I’m sure."

"Which I will regret to my dying day. Minerva," Severus purred. Harry felt the cosmos stop spinning as Snape gave a slow, wicked, and completely charming smile that was so unlike his usual self that it turned him into a different man. "Minerva," he purred persuasively. "I want to know who I’m dealing with, that’s all. I’m not going to off them. I swear. I can help you in the Headmaster’s absence."

"Help me how?"

"Check their references and backgrounds. Dig up a little dirt on them? See if they’re being honest with you about their experiences. I can be useful to you, Minerva. You know I can."

McGonagall paused, and seemed to be giving that more than a passing thought. A Slytherin with Snape’s connections might be able to find out more than she could, there was no denying that. Severus moved closer to Harry, who had remained quiet but watchful during their strange exchange. 

"If I have your word no one will come to harm," McGonagall said slowly.

"Cross my heart," Snape said, smiling more broadly, tracing his fingers over his chest. 

"Why do I indulge you?"

"Misplaced maternal instincts and a keen desire to see if you can reform my wicked Slytherin ways," Snape smiled at her warmly.

"Perhaps you’re right. There are seven of them to interview in four weeks’ time. I could use the help, between you and me. You see to Harry. I’ll continue the interview with this candidate and come back in one hour. I may inadvertently bring a list with me," she added. Snape gave her a sweeping bow. "No more scotch tonight, Severus," she whispered on her way out.


	4. Common Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for frank discussion of child abuse

"Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing?" Snape asked as he came closer to the bed. Harry was regarding him with a mixture of humor and disbelief.

"Professor McGonagall said I should."

"I’m sure you don’t need to be half naked for me to decide if your health is in question. Do please cover your pasty white behind."

"I tried to tell her that Madam Pomfrey never makes me undress unless absolutely necessary," Harry said, waiting until Snape turned away before quickly pulling on his clothes. When Harry had finished dressing, Severus sat on the side of the bed next to the boy, and they both silently stared at Potter’s bare feet. 

"When was the last time you trimmed those toenails, Potter? I’ve seen tidier feet on a werewolf."

"Can you just do this and get it over with?"

"Late for an appointment?"

"If Headmaster Dumbledore is leaving on holiday, who is will be in charge in his absence?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall, of course."

"She’ll be occupied by the interviews for the new Dark Arts instructor, yes?"

"Most likely."

"If I promise to be back for the start of term, how much would it take to get you to look the other way while I slipped out of the castle?"

"Do you mean to suggest you would like to bribe me to allow you to escape?" Snape's brows rose, and he drew his mouth into a tight line. "The answer is no. Not for all the money you might have."

"I’ll do whatever it takes to get away. I’m not going back to Privet Drive. I won’t go back to the Dursleys. You don’t want me here. Why does it matter to you where I go as long as I leave?"

"If there were anything left of me after Professor McGonagall got done raking me over the coals, Headmaster Dumbledore would have it stuffed and mounted and put on his office wall. The answer is ‘no’. Do I make myself clear?"

"Woefully, sir."

"Why don’t you begin by telling me why you are so very adamant about not returning to your family?"

"They aren’t my family," Harry protested hotly.

"We can’t choose our relatives, Potter. More’s the pity. You have to accept that. Now. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?"

"Why don’t you kiss my pasty white behind?" Harry frowned petulantly. Severus sucked back a smile in the nick of time.

"I see you’ve worked on your beguiling charm while you’ve been away."

"You don’t want me here any more than I want to be here. I’d be happily enjoying an anonymous life in the back streets of London at the moment if it weren’t for you. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got a homing beacon shoved somewhere inconspicuous. How is it you can track me as well as you do?"

"Do you mean to ask how I ran into you this morning?"

"Yes."

"Purely by accident, I promise you. I didn’t know until yesterday morning that I would be in London. How in hell do you think I could have known you’d be there?"

"I didn’t even tell Ron what I was doing. How did Hedwig know where to find me?"

"Owls have a precognitive sense about where their masters will be. I can’t explain it to you. Even if Mr. Weasley kept quiet when he read your note, which I seriously doubt he could have, if Hedwig insisted on accompanying McGonagall back to Hogwarts, Minerva would have known without a doubt that you would soon follow the bird. My father’s messenger owl Jupiter predicted a sudden trip to Mongolia once, as well as North Carolina."

"You aren’t close to your father, are you?" Harry asked, wanting to change the subject.

"No," Severus said curtly.

"Why? Is it because of how he treated you?"

"This is not something I want to discuss, Mr. Potter. Not with you. Not with anyone."

"Oh....um...." Harry sighed. "It’s just that we might have a common ground there, cause I know what it feels like when people think you’re there to be nothing more than an amusement and annoyance for them, and....and I thought...I understand how you feel. Nevermind."

Severus watched the boy, struggling to keep his mouth steady.

"Are you trying to bond with me? I may be ill," he tested. Harry’s brows went together, but he seemed to see through the sarcasm to the tentative surprise underneath. A twinkle of humor and sadness wove back into Harry’s eyes.

"I’m sorry about what I saw in the Pensieve. It was very private, and I shouldn’t have intruded. I’ve wanted to tell you that all summer. I’m sorry too about how they treated you-- your father, and my father too, and Professor Lupin and Sirius." He stumbled over words as if they were boulders.

"McGonagall put you up to this, didn’t she?"

"No," Harry said earnestly. "I’d be angry at them too in your place."

"It’s not your fault, Mr. Potter. But thank you for the sentiment. 

"However, I know you didn’t like Sirius, and I understand why, but he wasn’t a coward. He was never a coward. I want...I wish....you should apologize for making him feel that."

"Sirius wasn’t a coward," Severus murmured. "No. I shouldn’t have played towards his ego when I fought with him. In light of what happened, I concede it was foolish of me. But Sirius was reckless, and he was too adventurous."

"He was trying to protect me."

"Being a Slytherin, perhaps I have a hard time appreciating the finer points of Gryffindor spirit," Severus allowed. Harry remained quiet, clearing his throat and swinging his feet. He kept his eyes on the floor, blinking every now and again. "She’s going to come back, you know," Severus whispered in the uncomfortable silence. 

"I know," Harry said, sounding small and frightened.

"If I don’t have a look at you, she’ll take into the both of us, tooth, nail, and claw," Snape said grimly. Harry gave him a dart of a glance, and his shoulders sank. 

"Suppose you’re right."

"Lie back on the bed and I’ll see how you rate," Severus said, patting the covers.

"Words I never dreamed I’d hear from you," Harry gave a nervous, quick smile. Severus stood up, reconsidered his phrasing, and waved a hand impatiently in the air. 

"Well, yes, I see your point. I meant nothing of the sort though. I don’t make a habit of buggering little children, Mr. Potter, no matter how charming they might be."

"Glad to hear it," Harry nodded.

***

Professor McGonagall returned within the hour, finding Snape still in the hospital ward with Harry. She closed the door and handed Severus the parchment page she was carrying. He hardly glanced at it, folding it away in his pocket.

"How is Mr. Potter?"

"Perhaps you’d better sit down," Snape murmured. 

McGonagall glanced over at the boy. He was asleep on his side on the bed, glasses resting askance on his cheek. Minerva sat on the corner of the closest bed to the entrance, the one across from Harry’s.

"What is it?" she asked as Severus sat down beside her.

"To begin with, he’s at least fifteen pounds underweight for his height."

"James was thin too at that age."

"That’s not the point. He should be encouraged to eat more. He hasn’t had a decent meal since he left here. I’d bet my life on that."

"I can manage to keep him fed. What else did you find?"

"He had a cracked rib, and multiple bruises on his back and shoulders, on his arms and chest. Strangely, some of the wounds appear to be self-inflicted."

"Why?"

"If he’s being struck by someone else, he will curl into a defensive position, presenting the least vulnerable parts of himself to attack. That would explain the bruises on his back and shoulders. Not the ones on his chest and arms."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"I should think the meaning of what I’m telling you is perfectly obvious. Those Muggles are striking the boy, repeatedly, and with much zeal. I also suspect he’s been hurting himself."

"You suspect over-enthusiastic punishment? What did Harry say?"

"He won’t talk about what happened. I did not press him. I healed the worst of his bruises, and permitted him to write to Mr. Weasley. I sent the message by owl. It should arrive there soon. Minerva, if I may, considering the fact the Dursleys will surely blame Mr. Potter for the destruction of their house this afternoon, sending the boy back to them would not only be unconscionable, it might even result in homicide."

"I have no intention of sending him back there to those people," she confided. "If I had my way, he’d never go back there. But the Headmaster knows what’s best, I suppose. I’ve tried to talk him out of it time and again, year after year. Those people cause Harry no amount of distress. I warned Albus that he was getting old enough to consider doing this. I’ve warned him for years that the minute Harry’s feet could carry him and he had the least bit of sense, he’d get as far away from those people as fast as he could. No, Dumbledore tells me, Harry needs to remain with his family as long as possible." Minerva paused for a sad sigh. "I can’t thank you enough for bringing him back here to safety today."

"Yesterday," Snape said quickly.

"Whatever," she fussed. 

"You’re welcome. There’s more," Snape added, lowering his voice. 

"Yes?"

Snape watched Harry for several seconds, as if he were making sure the teen was actually sleeping. He tore his eyes off the boy, cleared his throat, and searched for words. McGonagall wanted a good reason for Harry to not return to the Dursleys, and Snape could give her one. 

"Minerva, I can’t prove this."

"But you suspect something?"

"Between you and I, he had bruises that to me imply someone made an attempt against his physical person," Severus ventured. McGonagall’s mouth fell open in shock and horror. "Some of the bruises on his arms and legs would suggest he was bound. A gag might explain how his mouth was injured. You wouldn’t want someone physically incapacitated unless you knew they’d put up a struggle. What I’m trying to say is..... I don’t know what I’m trying to say," he said, hanging his head. McGonagall knew what he was saying though.

"You mean those people, they molested Harry? But who would do such a thing to him? He’s a baby," Minerva went pale. 

"I said they bound and gagged him. I don’t believe they succeeded in much else. He appears to have put up a great struggle. I’d expect nothing less of one of your Gryffindors."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she gasped. "How thorough of an examination did you give him? Did you ask him if anything untoward had happened?"

"Certainly not," Severus blanched, scandalized. "In these cases, the direct approach can impact quite negatively. The child doesn’t trust me enough to discuss such a personal issue. Perhaps he’ll talk to you. Or to Lupin. Or to Mr. Weasley once the children are back at school."

"What did you do, exactly?"

"I tried to be as careful as I could. I gave him a mild sedative. Waited for it to sink in. Made a big fuss about how stupid I was, that I should have had him change into pajamas before giving him the sleeping draught. He was nearly asleep by that point. I helped him change and examined him as best I could during that process without actually physically touching him. There was no redness or sensitivity where you might expect if he had been molested." 

Severus cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the topic. When Minerva said nothing, he continued to talk, hoping she would forgive him when and if she realized he was trying to help her. It wasn’t totally out of the realm of the possibility, was it? He had told her he couldn’t prove this, and he was welcome to suspect what he wanted, wasn’t he? McGonagall would forgive him, he decided. 

"He was upset this morning," Snape went on.

"Yesterday morning."

"Whatever," Snape muttered. "If that’s what happened, it might explain why he wanted to leave Privet. I don’t know how you wish to proceed. I can only tell you what I think, and leave the rest to you and the Headmaster."

"What do you think, Severus?"

"What I can tell you for certain is that he was bound at the ankles and the wrists, that he was beaten by unknown parties, and that he also injured himself. It’s not uncommon in such circumstances for the victim to turn on themselves with hatred and loathing."

"Why on earth?" 

"You’ll have to talk to Harry or the Dursleys if you want to know further details. Minerva, I could be totally wrong here. It just seemed to me that would explain his rash actions. Desperate people don’t always make rational choices. Of course, the boy has never exactly been rational, has he? I could be all wrong."

"Thank you, Severus. I don’t have to ask you to keep this to yourself, do I?"

"I’ve already forgotten what we were discussing," Severus whispered in reply as he rose to his feet and stretched. "Thank you for the list."

He left McGonagall staring sadly across the room as Harry slept on, unaware.


	5. The Night Visit

Snape was dipping his quill into his nearly empty ink well when he heard the flutter of wings. He lifted his head and spotted Hedwig crossing his office threshold. Unable to gain access through the closed windows, she had taken a route through the corridors, and appeared pretty disgruntled about it. She swooped in and landed on his desk, sticking her leg at him. He removed the small note there attached, wondering why the bird was here. He read the note aloud, recognizing the semi-legible script from the many mediocre Potions essays he had read from this particular student.

_" ‘Dear Professor: I saw your light on. Why are you awake at this hour? I’m going barking mad up here. Please feel free to visit. – H.P.’ "_

He drew a line under Harry’s message and wrote back, **"Go to bed, Mr. Potter. – Professor S.S."**

Hedwig delivered the note and returned with reply, after reply, after reply.

_" ‘Dear Professor– We really have to talk. Please come visit. – H.P.’ "_

**"H.P. – Go to bed. – Professor S.S.’ "**

_" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – You can quiz me on Potions. If you’re really bored, you can even poke me with sharp objects. I have to talk to you, something I can’t say in a note. – H.P.’ "_

**"Mr. H.P. – While the bit about sharp objects is a tempting offer, I must decline. Go to bed, Mr. Potter – Professor S.S."**

_" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – Don’t make me beg. – H.P.’ "_

**"Mr. H.P. – Though I should very much like to see you beg, it must wait for some other, more convenient time. I’m working on class lectures. – Professor S.S."**

_" ‘Dear Professor S.S. Please.... please..... *sob*.... please..... oooooh..... going.... crazy..... no one to talk to .....please.....*sniff*....*whimper*....please.... H.P.’ "_

**"Mr. H.P., you annoy me at great personal risk. I’m currently very busy. – Professor S.S. (Head of Slytherin House, renowned for various evil deeds including stuffing irritating small children into dark trunks)"**

_" ‘Dear Professor: I realize that you’re busy, but you are awake. Hagrid went to sleep an hour ago. He stopped answering my messages, least ways, right after he told me he’d bring me back to the hospital wing in a burlap bag if I broke out and went around school grounds after dark. – H.P.’ "_

**"Mr. H.P. – I always knew I liked Hagrid for some reason. If I pretend I’m asleep, will you leave me alone too? – Professor S.S."**

_" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – If you were asleep, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’re going to wear poor Hedwig out. Come see me, or I shall be forced to break out of the hospital wing and blame it entirely on you when Professor McGonagall catches me. – H.P.’ "_

Though he had created several scathing remarks to use while waiting for Harry’s note, Severus dipped his stylus and it came up totally dry. There were but two choices at this point– refill the ink well or get off his seat and go to the infirmary. 

When Snape arrived at the hospital wing, there were several chocolate frog boxes opened on Harry’s bed. Potter popped a frog leg into his mouth with an eagerness that was only attractive in hungry children. He stacked cards together and flipped through them. Hedwig swung across the room and landed on the railed headboard. There was no sign of Professor McGonagall, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t keeping watch.

"Oh! I didn’t realize you’d give in so quickly. I was fully prepared to beg a bit more. Thanks for coming," Harry said. "You aren’t really going to stuff me in a trunk, are you?"

A timid hint of a smile touched his mouth. He chased a jumping frog under the covers, emerging at the foot of the bed. His hair was standing on end from the static. His fading bruises were whispering about the torment the child was smiling his way through. The sight of him still made Snape wince in pain. Luckily the wince made the Potions Master seem more severe. 

"I’m not here to amuse you, Mr. Potter," Severus said tersely. 

"You’re here to tuck me in?" Harry asked innocently.

"I’m here to knock you out," Severus replied, taking his wand from his sleeve.

"Well....um.....I see," Harry stammered nervously, crawling back up to the pillows and getting situated under the covers. "That’s thoughtful of you, in your own special way." He stacked his cards again as he nibbled on the now-still chocolate frog. "You said you were working on class lectures?" he stalled.

"Yes," Snape murmured, crossing his arms impatiently.

"How long have you been teaching here at Hogwarts?"

"Fifteen years?" 

"You don’t use the same plans year after year?"

"No. I find myself presently beset with woefully-unprepared students, particularly in your year, and I’m modifying my plans to challenge you louts accordingly."

"Oh." Harry sounded unsure what else to say.

"Are you ready to turn in?"

"Into what?" Harry whispered, drawing back a little as Snape raised his wand. "Look. Can we talk for a bit? Do you have to rush away? I wanted to ask you something."

"Why aren’t you pestering Professor McGonagall?"

"She’s asleep," Harry said. 

"How silly of me. Let me rephrase. Why are you pestering me?"

"At present, you are the best resident source for questions about Dark Arts."

Severus blinked and worried the bottom half of his face was about to slip off his skull. Had Harry Potter paid him a compliment? A compliment about his Dark Arts abilities, no less?? Realizing he must look pretty foolish, he lowered his wand and put it away. 

"I’ll have you know I’m always the best resident source," he answered imperiously.

"You won’t take offense if I ask you things that other people might find, well, questionable," Harry continued. "Will you?"

"Go on."

"I’m having dreams again."

"About Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"That’s why you refuse to go to sleep? As the Headmaster feared, your link with Voldemort is getting stronger."

"I’m afraid," Harry admitted. 

"Of what?" Severus asked. Harry went a very ashen color.

"I’m having the same dream from Privet Drive. I thought if I left there, that if....I thought. I don’t know how to say this."

"You believed leaving Privet Drive would make the dreams stop. But it hasn’t."

"Exactly."

"Tell me about this dream."

"I’m inside a coffin. Draco is with me. Something else is with us too. It’s a skeleton, or a body, or a mummy. It’s dead. It’s got a lot of bones. It’s dark. I don’t know what it is exactly, except that I don’t want to be in there with it."

"What do you think it means?"

"I don’t know what it means," Harry said softly. "I was hoping you would."

"I don’t read dreams, Mr. Potter."

"If I wanted to have my dreams interpreted, I’d be waking up Trelawney," Harry snapped back critically. Severus knew he had encountered that look from Voldemort himself on more than one occasion. "I’m sorry," Harry added, shaking his head. "I’m having a hard time with this. I don’t mean it."

"How does the dream end?"

"Draco and I are both screaming our lungs out. I can hear Voldemort laughing. I can hear your voice too, as if you’re talking just out of earshot. But I know it’s you. This has to mean something."

"Yes, it means you’re afraid of getting locked inside a coffin with Draco Malfoy. But who among us isn’t?" Severus quipped. "What kind of coffin is it?"

"I don’t know."

"Close your eyes and think about it. Is it wood or stone? Is it recent or ancient? How does it smell?"

"I don’t want to think about it," Harry protested, shaking his head. "Every time I close my eyes, I’m inside the thing. It’s like last year, with the dreams about the corridors at the Ministry of Magic."

"Why do you want to talk to me, Mr. Potter?"

"Is Draco all right?"

"What?"

"Do you know where Draco is spending the summer? Could it be I’m seeing where Voldemort is? I mean, maybe he’s the one locked inside a coffin with Draco."

"You’re worried about Draco Malfoy?" Snape murmured, his face screwing up in puzzlement. Harry nodded, lowering his eyes. "You believe this is a precognitive dream?"

"It’s possible, isn’t it?" Harry asked. Snape nodded begrudgingly.

"You are of an age when a wizard’s magic can begin to fluctuate on him, become uncontrollable when he’s angry, or venture into precognition when he’s sleeping. It is possible. Why do you care about Draco suddenly?"

"I know, hard to believe. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to see Draco stuffed in a coffin now and again. But what if something’s wrong with him, if he’s in trouble, and I didn’t tell anyone? I don’t want that on my head."

"I’ll send an owl to Lucius and find out what Draco is up to. Master Malfoy should be home by now. Will that make you feel better?"

"As long as you don’t tell him ‘that Potter brat’s under the delusion he’s having pre-cognitive dreams. Would you make sure Voldemort hasn’t been buried alive with your son?’."

"I promise I’ll be much more subtle than that," Snape replied. "Is that all?"

"No, I...um....wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"You saved my life probably by not letting me go the other day. Thank you. I know I can be trying, but I honestly don’t mean to be."

"You’re welcome," Severus tried out the words and didn’t choke on them. "Did McGonagall put you up to this again?"

"No," Harry murmured, rolling his eyes. "Did I tell you I got a postcard from Professor Dumbledore?" he added as he fished it out of the bedcovers from among the candy boxes and wrappers. "He’s in the States. Went to go study ancient burial practices of early North American colonial settlements. Pretty random holiday, wouldn’t you say?" 

Severus glanced at the postcard– it had a statue of an Indian maiden on the front of it. The blurb mentioned Jamestown, Virginia. He gave it back to Harry without reading the message on the back.

"If I asked you to do something totally unorthodox, would you be able to keep it to yourself?" Harry asked.

"That depends. I could try."

"Voldemort, he can’t read my thoughts all the time, can he?"

"Not that I’m aware, no."

"But he can project his feelings to me?"

"Yes."

"Can I project back?"

"The point of our Occlumency lessons last year was to make you able to resist the Dark Lord’s intrusions into your mind."

"I want you to teach me how to strengthen the link between us."

"Strengthen it? To what end?"

"I want you to make us one mind in two bodies."

"Why?" Snape asked, his voice sticking in his throat. 

"Are you any good with memory charms?"

Severus gripped the railed footboard tightly and realized his hand was shaking.

"You want me to ‘Obliviate’ you?"

"If he and I are one mind in two bodies, he’ll be ‘Obliviated’ too. Isn’t that how it works, Professor?"

"Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?" Snape asked, scalded. "The kind of trouble I would catch if I said yes to your request?"

"Yes. I have every idea."

"No, Mr. Potter, I will not strengthen the link, and I will not erase your mind. You will forget this cockamamy plan at once, or I really will ‘Obliviate’ you."

"He’s in my mind," Harry said, his voice trembling. "He’s making me dream terrible things. I wake up walking around the house, trying to hurt myself, trying to hurt other people. Uncle Vernon took to tying me up at night so I wouldn’t do anything to any of them, but how long do you think it’s going to be before Voldemort succeeds in making me harm someone or myself?"

Harry turned away, ashamed of the tears in his eyes. 

"Potter, no."

"I’ve never asked you to do anything for me," Harry whispered. "Why can’t you say yes just once?"

Severus sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Harry, I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I will keep watch on you as best I can, keep you and others around you from harm, but I will not injury you, not even to injury Voldemort. I can’t do that."

"Why not? I’d’ve thought you’d’ve leapt at the chance to zap me a couple times," Harry wanted to laugh, to make light, but failed. "I’ll let you throw in an extra ‘Cruciatus’ without so much as a word of complaint."

"Your mother died to protect you, Harry. She was a friend to me whether I wanted it or not at times. And because you were more than the world to her, I will not harm you. No matter how tempting the offer, I must decline."

Harry nodded awkwardly. He picked up his wizard cards, wanting to distract himself again. 

"No way I can tempt you, then?" he whispered, not meeting Snape’s eyes.

"You should try to sleep," Severus suggested.

"I don’t want to sleep. He’s inside my head when I sleep."

"Do you intend to stay awake for the rest of your life?"

"For as long as I can, yes." Harry was shaking as he responded, forcing a smile onto his face. "Can’t I ask you a question? Stay and talk to me," he begged. 

"You may ask one question. And only one."

"Did you say something to McGonagall about me?"

"Um, you’ll have to be more specific."

"She’s acting strangely around me," Harry said. 

"In what manner?" Severus asked, keeping his voice as bland as possible.

"It’s like she’s on the verge of saying something but never works up to it."

"She’s got a lot on her mind right at the moment. Be patient. If it’s important, she’ll work up to it."

"Do you have any idea what’s on her mind?" Harry raised a brow at Severus, and held his eyes in a gaze that made Snape feel naked. "Something you said, Professor, has greatly influenced her treatment of me. I want to know what you told her."

"What you want and what you get are often two different things, Mr. Potter," Severus replied archly. Potter took away his penetrating gaze, and Snape relaxed, watching the boy flip through his wizard cards. 

"Are you related to Illumina Snape?" Harry said, holding up one of the cards. "Is she the same Illumina that Professor McGonagall was asking you about?"

Severus sat on the end of the bed with an ungainly thump. Harry had totally gobsmacked him with that question, no point in trying to cover it up. 

"Am I what?" he croaked.

"She is in my cards. She’s incredibly rare. Won’t Ron be thrilled when he sees her? Her biography is rather unusual."

Severus tried to keep a blank face when Harry handed him the pentagonal card. The pale woman in the portrait winked at Snape and blew him a kiss. Harry’s eyes were glued to Snape’s face, and he was turning more serious by the second. Severus gave him back the card.

" ‘Illumina Snape is a member of the ancient wizarding cult– the Deusredeti. She had a short but distinguished career in the Ministry of Mysteries as a Tracker, until she disappeared on an assignment in Bucharest. She is presumed dead though unsubstantiated sightings are reported now and again.’ "

"I know what it says, Mr. Potter. I wrote it."

"Then you are related? You do know her?"

"I should hope," Snape smirked.

"She looks like you," Harry said, holding the card up for closer comparison with the Potions Master.

"Nonsense. She’s beautiful," Severus scoffed a bit. Harry cocked his head to one side, pulling the card close for an intent study.

"She has your eyes," Harry decided. 

"We have similar eyes, yes, I suppose," Snape agreed. 

"How are you related? Is she kith or kin?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What’s your connection? Blood or marriage?"

Snape was making a face that looked very much like a grimace of pain that wanted to be a smile.

"A bit of both, I’m afraid. Too much of one and not enough of the other."

"What kind of answer is that?" Harry frowned, annoyed.

"The only one you’re getting," Snape responded darkly. "Cheeky boy."

"That’s the trouble with some wizards. Too overly fond of cryptic answers to important questions. Well, I’m sorry that she’s missing. That must be hard for you."

"There are parts of the past that are better forgotten if at all possible," Severus explained. The compartmentalizing going on in his heart must have been absolutely audible to Harry. Potter’s eyes watched him knowingly, studying him. Pity was lurking in there, but Harry didn’t pursue it, for which Severus was thankful. 

"Why would she be in a Muggle book written by a wizard about the paranormal world? I mean, if she’s dead? Do you think Madam Pince will get a copy for the library?" the boy tested. He saw much more than he was often given credit for noticing. Snape made a mental note that he should be very EXTREMELY careful what he did or said in front of Harry. 

"I doubt it. And, Mr. Potter, Illumina’s not dead. Not technically," Severus ground out the words. He said the last part to see Harry’s response. Potter sat up straighter.

"Was she turned into a spirit?" the boy wondered. "Like Peeves or Sir Nicholas?"

"No."

"If she’s not dead and she’s not here, what is she?"

"Missing," Snape concluded. Wheels were ever-turning in Potter’s head. 

"Is she undead?" Harry gasped, hopeful, curious, and horrified at once. "She was turned into a zombie? A vampire? A ghoul?"

"Oh, really. One question. I said one question!" Snape sputtered impatiently, though he was begrudgingly very impressed with the boy’s quickness. "It’s time you were asleep, Mr. Potter."

"That would explain your interest in the Defense Against the Dark Arts and all, if you were trying to save her. Or....or maybe you’re the one who turned her that way?"

There was an awkward pause during which Snape glared quite meanly at the boy. Harry gave him a cautious double-look and continued to speak.

"No. It seems you would have preferred that she not disappear, or why would you continue to speak of her in present tense? That was out-of-bounds. Sorry."

"Have we finished our little interrogation?" Snape muttered.

"Forgive me. I’m only curious. Did she go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, lying down in the bed when Snape tugged him horizontal and straightened his blankets around him tight as a straight-jacket. He took away Harry’s glasses, folding them and carefully putting them aside on the table. 

Potter squinted at him. Snape hadn’t noticed before what large eyebrows the boy had. They crossed his face from one side to the other. He imagined Harry in about a century, and how white and bushy those brows might be by then. He wondered if the boy would be lucky enough to live that long, and felt sorrow rise up and crash over in his stomach. He watched Harry’s eyes, had to think of something painless, anything except Illumina. The box where he crammed all his torment and pain over her absence was almost opened by the child’s innocent questions.

"Yes," Snape said, fighting another grimace. Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Phft. You’re lying. I knew it."

"Am I?" Snape concentrated on him like a vengeful bird of prey. 

"Every Snape who attended Hogwarts was male, except your great, great, great, great, great-aunt Chloe. I looked your family up in the library."

"Why?"

"Idle curiosity."

"Perhaps those Muggles are correct."

"In what sense? Which Muggles?"

" ‘Idle hands do the Devil’s work’. Isn’t that what they believe, some of them?"

"Do you believe in the Devil, Professor?" Harry asked with a peculiar grin.

"Yes. And so should you," Snape whispered, leaning closer. 

"You’re awfully sure," Harry decided. 

"We had tea only last week."

"I don’t believe in the Devil or God either one. Those are stories used to scare children and needy, gullible adults into obeying. We make our own Heaven or Hell, sir, or we allow others to make it for us."

"With all the things you could research in our extensive collection of tomes, why on Earth would you look up the Snapes?" Severus asked, changing the subject, somewhat.

"I wondered about you, that’s all. What makes you tick. Is there any truth to that tale about your family being cursed in the sixteenth century by wandering gypsies in Romania? That no woman born a Snape lives beyond sixteen?"

"Harry, you’re trying my patience," Snape warned. "Can you make no distinction between fantasy and reality? Fiction and non-fiction?"

"You’re the one who believes in the Devil," Harry retorted. "But why would you lie about it?"

"My private life is none of your business, Mr. Potter," Snape said uncomfortably.

"I’m not trying to pry. Just wanting to make conversation is all."

"I’m not lying, Mr. Potter. My responses are not mutually exclusive," Severus said. He counted slowly backwards from ten. Harry shot back up at six.

"When she attended Hogwarts, she wasn’t named ‘Snape’. She was your wife!" Harry exclaimed. "Professor! I never knew you were married!"

"You say that as if it’s totally inconceivable," Snape murmured dryly. Harry’s face softened with regret.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that," he said, lowering his eyes. "I didn’t know you were married once upon a time, that’s all."

"I am married yet, Mr. Potter. There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Most of it would surprise you. Some of it might scare the hell out of you," Severus replied, putting a palm on Harry’s forehead. He moved his lips in soundless words. Harry cautiously put a hand on his arm, wanting to push Snape’s hand away, but he wasn’t fast enough. 

"Don’t." Harry hadn’t been able to prevent the word from escaping. Severus’s chest felt hollow at how frightened the boy sounded. 

"It’s only a sleeping spell," Snape whispered, surprised at how gentle his voice was. 

"Can’t believe you did that to me. I don’t want to sleep," Harry protested. Soothing warmth began to ebb through Potter, and his limbs turned to sand. He sank back into his bed, his neck unable to support his heavy skull. 

"You need your rest," Severus added. Half-lidded green eyes watched him warily. 

"I don’t want to sleep," Harry whispered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Strands of hair were tangled with his long lashes. 

"I don’t care what you want, Mr. Potter," Severus said, fighting hard to reign in the urge to stroke Harry’s bangs out of his eyes. That would have been too forward, and far too gentle. He would not submit to this pity in his heart. He didn’t like to admit to even having a heart! 

"You didn’t use your wand," Harry rambled, still rubbing his eyes. Snape gave in.

"No," Severus replied, tracing fingertips across Harry’s forehead, pushing half the tickling strands aside. "Don’t fight. Sleep, Harry," he whispered. His traitorous heart throbbed in sorrow when Harry cringed visibly at the approach of his hand. It was only for a second, but Harry shut his eyes and pulled a fraction of an inch away. Snape pushed the other half of Harry’s bangs out of his eyes, and rested his hand on the top of Harry’s skull. He smoothed the unruly locks as best he could, watching Harry’s uneasy expression.

"Why’d you bring it?" Harry asked, meaning Severus’s wand. 

"Dramatic effect," Snape shrugged.

"Illumina," Harry whispered.

"What about her?" Severus asked. Harry’s eyes drooped. 

"Very beautiful."

"Yes, she is," Snape answered. 

"Can I meet her?"

Severus coughed up a soft laugh at this. 

"Go to sleep, Mr. Potter."

"Lucius Malfoy? Here?" Harry whispered, one arm stiffening as he grasped the covers. He filled with alarm, but there wasn’t enough adrenalin in his system to overpower Snape’s spell.

"What foolishness is this?" Severus said, glancing around the ward. He saw no sign of Lucius Malfoy. What was wrong with this boy?

"Lucius. My faithful servant. I’ve been expecting you," Harry mumbled, curling his fingers tightly into the sheets. The boy’s face traveled through an expression of feigned politeness, and back to normal. Harry fussed, stretching out his arm, his fingers curling and clawing. Snape took the hand and folded the fingers around his own. 

"Harry? Where are you?" Severus asked. The boy was entirely asleep.


	6. This Isn't Pity

"We’re what?" Snape gulped, washing down a bite of breakfast roll with a swig of juice. He had been up till dawn beside Harry’s bed, unable to bring himself to let go of the desperate claws that had had a life of their own while Potter was asleep. He had the memory of them seared into his flesh– the way they stretched and clutched and begged as the boy tossed and turned in his restless slumber. Snape was still holding those twitchity fingers when Hagrid had shown up. Correction. When Hagrid had tiptoed into the hospital ward, kissed the sleeping child on the cheek, and smiled at Snape in an approving way he’d never done before. Snape had carefully tucked Harry’s hand inside his covers and followed Hagrid to breakfast, wishing he could make Hagrid’s smile go away again.

You’ve got it all wrong. This isn’t pity. I wasn’t being nice.

"Severus, Harry can’t be expected to sit the whole of August in the hospital wing. And the students’ dormitories are still being cleaned and repaired," McGonagall murmured from across the staff table. "Now, he can sleep in the empty staff quarters in my tower. I can keep an eye on him that way. But the best way to protect him is to make sure he’s in a different location every day. Each of us will take a day a week with him. Three and a half weeks are left of summer– that’s about three days a piece, give or take. Three small days. Seventy-two hours. That’s hardly a life sentence, is it? Stop making that face." 

"I have lesson plans to write," Severus complained.

"Which can be done in the other eighteen days. Harry can be very good company if you give him a chance, Severus. Now, which day of the week would you all like? I’ll take Wednesdays," Minerva began. 

"Tuesdays," Hagrid grinned. "Oh! Today! Can we start today?" 

"Surely," she nodded. "Harry’s getting restless with boredom. The sooner we start, the better."

"Is there any reason you can’t ask the Weasley family if they can...amuse...the boy until the start of term?" Severus persisted.

"Harry asked to remain here instead of going to the Burrow," Minerva answered. Severus watched her eyes, and decided she wasn’t telling the whole truth on the matter. Frankly, he was intrigued. 

"I would like Thursdays," Professor Hooch called from her end of the table.

"Sundays," Professor Sprout said. 

"Fridays will come back to me and Saturdays to Hagrid. Severus, that leaves Mondays to you. 

"Fine," Severus gave in, sulking his way through the rest of the meal.

"I hope Harry won’t feel we are holding him on too tight a leash," Minerva added. Snape swallowed a dark snort of laughter while pouring himself another cup of tea. 

***

The next Saturday morning, Professor McGonagall entered the courtyard gallery on her way to breakfast. She nearly fell over in horror. There were torches glowing in the rising dawn, and the crash of metal to metal echoed loudly. It took her a few moments to figure out what was going on, and another second or two after that to realize no, she wasn’t imagining the scene before her. 

"Is that the best you can do? Come on now. I want to hear screams, real screams, and you have to charge at me with everything you’ve got!"

"Yes, Hagrid," Harry said softly, getting a better grip on his mace in order to drag it a few paces back. "You sure I won’t hurt you?"

"You’re not going to hurt me, Harry, and besides, you shouldn’t be worried about that. Let me hear you! I want screams!"

"Are you ready?" Harry asked politely. 

"A nice loud scream this time," Hagrid urged. "Half of winning a war is looking and sounding as menacing as possible."

Harry screwed up his features in a fearsome scowl and growled while baring his teeth. He lifted the mace, howled like a wolf, and ran at the giant. Professor McGonagall gave a terrified shriek and rushed forward to stop them. Hagrid raised his shield and flattened Potter to the ground without much effort. He even gave Harry a couple of extra thumps for good measure. Harry dropped the mace and reached up with his arms and legs both. He grabbed two handfuls of hair, and tried his best to bite Hagrid on the ear. In response, Hagrid began to tickle whatever spots he could sink his fingers into around the heavy metal breastplate Harry was wearing. Harry’s resounding screaming and hollering echoed off the walls of the courtyard. He twitched about, laughing wildly, kicking and struggling against the giant’s fingers. 

"Mercy!" Harry hollered. "Oh! OH! Stop! Hagrid!!"

"Good scream," Hagrid complimented, glad to see Harry smiling. 

"HAGRID! What in the name of Merlin are you doing to that child!!??" McGonagall rasped when she reached them. Harry lay on the ground, watching the sky spin above. Hagrid sat beside him and cringed as McGonagall’s voice raised into the air again. "What are you thinking? You shouldn’t be swinging maces at him and getting him all exited! Oh, Harry! Are you all right?" 

She put a hand to her chest and heaved for breath as Potter climbed slowly to his feet and straightened his glasses. 

"Professor, Hagrid’s not hurting me," Harry insisted. It was clear to see he was swaying dizzily though. Hagrid steadied him, and avoided looking at McGonagall as long as he could. "Really. I’m all right," Potter added, picking up his club. 

"Mr. Potter, you put down that mace, take off that armor, and get yourself cleaned up for breakfast. This very instant!" McGonagall said, pointing towards the castle. 

Harry’s face fell in disappointment. Hagrid lifted the armor off Harry’s torso and took the mace away. The giant rubbed the top of Harry’s head, and began dusting grass and dirt and leaves off of the boy’s clothing before shooing him along. 

"Go on now. Do what the Professor says," Hagrid told him. Harry trudged back into the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve. From the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower, he could hear McGonagall giving Hagrid the dressing-down of his life.

"---- manhandle him like he’s a stuffed toy!"

"I wasn’t manhandling him. I was trying to teach him how to defend himself, and trying to give him an outlet for his anger."

"By swinging enormous metal plates and wicked sharp weapons at him?"

"But, Professor! He’s been hurt far worse than that playing Quidditch."

"At least he’s wearing protective padding in Quidditch. I don’t want to ever hear of you doing this again. He may not look it, but he’s very fragile."

"Only when you treat him that way," Hagrid replied. 

"After breakfast, you will find something to do with Harry that does not involve sharp pointed objects!"

"McGonagall found out about the maces, eh?" 

Harry jumped and put out a hand for the railing to keep himself from falling. Professor Snape stood in front of him, concealed in the shadow of the turn of the stairs. He stepped into the light from the window, pushing back the edge of one sleeve. Harry had thought this back staircase was very under-utilized, but he was apparently incorrect in that assumption. 

"It’s....um...."

"Lucky you two weren’t using the crossbows," Snape said, glancing out the window and down into the courtyard. Harry wondered how long Snape had been standing here watching Hagrid and him. It had been several days since Harry had laid eyes on Snape. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Potions Master since Tuesday morning, when McGonagall had escorted Harry to his temporary quarters in Gryffindor Tower. Harry had spent several minutes gaping about in wonder, unable to believe his good fortune. It was quite a nice room with a private bath, and the bed alone was larger than Harry’s cupboard. 

Snape had set up extra protection on the fireplace in the room, and cast a spell on the mirror above the mantle. Then he skulked away mumbling about rank favoritism to certain Gryffindor students. McGonagall had given Snape a sharp glance which had silenced him right away. And while Harry knew all too well the power of Minerva McGonagall’s look, he couldn’t shake the feeling they had been making a show of things. As though if Snape hadn’t made a few snide comments, Harry would have found it very suspicious. 

Since Tuesday, Severus had taken his meals in his dungeons, and refused to answer the door when anyone knocked. Harry wondered if he were even actually in the dungeons. Maybe he was busy for McGonagall doing other things. Potter had lurked around a time or two on his way to somewhere else on the grounds, but didn’t see any movement.

"Crossbows, nothing. Hagrid was going to teach me how to use the broad swords next," Harry replied, letting his disappointment show.

"My but she sounds angry, doesn’t she? Her bark and her bite are equally dangerous," Severus winced anxiously as McGonagall trailed behind Hagrid towards the Great Hall.

"How has your week been?" Harry asked him quietly. Severus couldn’t help the smile that sprang up.

"I narrowed a few names off McGonagall’s list for her. We’re down to four candidates and dropping."

"So you’ve been digging in the dirt all week?"

"If you must be utterly simplistic about it, yes."

"You enjoy doing that?"

"It has its ups and downs. This week, it’s been all ups."

"How does one get discredited from applying for the position of Dark Arts Instructor? I mean, we’re in pretty desperate straits here."

"I won’t name names, but there was one with a criminal past in the States. Another was dismissed from the service for an inability to keep his temper in check. I think he might have been good at the job, but McGonagall thought otherwise. I report what I find out, and she decides. That’s all."

"Is there anyone you did like on the list?"

"I was partial to the applicant from the West Indies. He showed promise," Severus sighed. "But alas, he didn’t pass the skills test. Hope McGonagall got those horns off him before she sent him on his way. One time when I failed the skills test, she made me wear those horns for a week. Claimed she couldn’t think of the counter-curse. If you’ll excuse me, today’s interviewee is due to be coming across the lake any time. I’m to go provide a warm welcome," he rasped his displeasure.

"Going to go put a hole in the boat?" Harry teased.

"That’s enough cheek out of you," Severus replied tartly. "By the way, Lucius Malfoy sent a reply to my inquiry about where Draco was spending his summer."

"Where is Draco?" Harry asked, his tone immediately serious.

"Sunning himself on the French Rivera. Nowhere near coffins or dark lords."

"Glad to hear it. Hope he gets a good burn. See you Monday, Professor?"

"See you Monday, Mr. Potter," Severus replied. He jogged quickly down the stairs before realizing with a faint gasp that he had just had an almost pleasant exchange with Harry Potter. The whole absurdity of that made him trip mid-step, and he nearly fell down the rest of the flight.


	7. Kiss Up

Sunday morning, Remus Lupin arrived at Hogwarts. He was escorted by Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks. Moody disappeared into the Dark Forest without a word of explanation to the others. Severus was watching the grounds from a high tower, where he was, for lack of a better word, basting some test samples of a sun-screening potion which required sunlight to test the chemical reaction. He had spotted Moody first, and squinted at the forms going in the opposite direction. McGonagall was showing another Dark Arts interviewee around the grounds. It appeared that the interviewee was accompanied by a house elf. They crossed paths with Lupin and Tonks, and paused for a brief conversation. McGonagall directed Lupin towards the greenhouses. The house elf gazed at Lupin and seemed more interested in following him instead of following its mistress. Snape coughed up a dark laugh, and worried if it had been loud enough to hear on the ground. 

Apparently not. No one looked his direction. Snape wondered what Lupin was doing here. Remus must have been searching for Harry. Severus knew that Professor Sprout was keeping Potter busy today. If he squinted in the direction of the glass and metal structures, he could make out two figures moving around in the fifth building. The first was a squat little gray-brown one, and the second was a rail-thin blue one.

When Lupin appeared on the doorstep of Greenhouse Number Five, Potter literally pounced on him. Harry dropped his protective gloves and a helmet in order to give Remus a hug. Severus sighed his annoyance, moving his test samples a hint to the left in order to keep them in the full of the sun. He turned his attention back to the goings-on below. Not to be left out, Tonks also grabbed Harry and hugged him tightly. She turned him around for a second, and she and Lupin laughed loudly about something. Harry batted her in the side of the head and returned inside the greenhouse. Lupin and Tonks went inside as well. Seconds later, small puffs of reddish blue flames could be seen inside. Professor Sprout was having Harry repot the enchanted snap dragons? 

Severus wondered if he should ready a burn remedy or not. He had perfected the perfect burn remedy ten years ago, while experimenting with the effects of sunlight on extremely sensitive skin. The experiment he was working on now was a continuation of that line of work. He had let his father take the credit for its discovery, not wanting to draw undue publicity to himself. Severus still wasn’t sure why he had done it, and chalked it up to a moment of temporary insanity. 

Deciding that the test samples would be fine alone for a few hours, Snape disappeared inside out of the detestable sunshine. He blinked away the spots in his eyes and made for the confines of his beloved dungeon. At least that was the plan. As he rounded the corner and entered the Great Hall, he heard McGonagall’s voice and stopped in his tracks. 

"Professor Snape? Do you have a moment?" Minerva called.

"For you, of course," Severus put on his best smile and waited for McGonagall to escort the newest interviewee over to him. 

"This is Anna Vasilyevna Volkova," Minerva said, indicating the skinny woman next to her. 

Severus gave the woman a passing glance, but quickly centered his gaze on her house elf. She was dressed in clothes and shoes, a nearly identical dark-black ensemble as that of her mistress. The little female sniffed at Snape for a brief second before hiding behind her mistress. Her large eyes followed Snape, with mistrust and distaste harbored in their depths.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Volkova," Snape said, folding his hands behind his back and glaring down at the house elf. She went further behind Volkova, but continued to gawk at Severus. Volkova whispered to her servant in a Slavic language, laughing under her breath. Then she removed a black glove and extended her hand at Severus. He started to reach forward, but the house elf whimpered her protest and tugged Volkova’s hand away from him. 

"Ms. Volkova is from....what city did you say again?" McGonagall asked.

"Archangel. It’s on the White Sea. Don’t mind Malchik. She’s nervous around people she doesn’t know. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you, eventually," Volkova added, laying her hand on the house elf’s shoulder. Volkova’s skin was the kind of dangerous white that was nearly transparent, testament to the fact she spent very little time in the sun. 

"Good luck with your interview," Snape said, hoping to be able to depart. McGonagall was smiling at him strangely, as if there was something she wanted to say but didn’t think this was the time or place.

"A last minute addition to the list," McGonagall said. "I was just showing her around the castle and the grounds. Perhaps you’d like to accompany us? If we’re not tearing you away from anything important."

"I have test samples of a new potion on the top of the Hufflepuff Tower," Severus began, but McGonagall gave him her ‘I will not take ‘no’ for an answer’ gaze that he remembered so well from when he had been but a wee student of hers. "But the samples should be fine for the time being," he amended. 

"Good," McGonagall smiled again. "You can join us."

"You are the Potions Master," Volkova said as Severus walked on McGonagall’s opposite side. The cadence of their footfalls echoed like an out-of-rhythm drumroll. 

"Yes," Snape nodded.

"Also, the author of several tomes about herbal remedies, if I’m not mistaken."

"I’ve been known to put a quill to parchment now and again," Severus said, wondering why McGonagall kept smiling so peculiarly.

"You’ve written tomes on Dark Arts dueling strategies and defenses as well, including in particular a treatise on the implementation of various mind control techniques to employ against one’s opponent during battle. I found that one had very interesting theories."

"You’re very well-read, aren’t you, Ms. Volkova? We like that in our instructors," McGonagall interjected. 

"Not much to do where I’ve been lately. The winters are unforgiving. There are two seasons. Cold, and damned cold. Summer lasts about twelve hours, sometime in early August."

"Isn’t that refreshing, Severus? A kindred spirit for you. He keeps our librarian Mrs. Pince hopping with his requests for new books."

"I’m sorry I’m not as familiar with your own works," Snape said. 

"All in due time. We would compliment each other well, Professor."

"Why is that, Ms. Volkova?" Snape wanted to know.

"You are a Potions Master with more than a little Dark Arts knowledge, and I am a Dark Arts Master with more than a little Potions knowledge."

"How nice." Severus worked up his best smile, raising a brow at McGonagall. It dawned on him what the Deputy Headmistress had said earlier. Volkova was a late addition to the interviewee list. He was supposed to be taking notes on Volkova, in order to check her out for McGonagall. 

"How many students does Hogwarts house on a yearly basis, Professor McGonagall? It’s a co-educational institution, isn’t it?" Volkova asked, starting ahead into the hallway with the house elf at her heels. The mistress folded her hands behind her back and looked over one shoulder at them, waiting for a reply. Malchik gave a shrill peep and pushed Volkova out of the way. 

McGonagall and Snape both froze. Ahead in the corridor, Tonks came tearing around a corner, mid-transformation. She began as Severus Snape, which was what had first caught Snape and McGonagall’s attentions, to be sure. She transformed through three different other people before rushing by them and bolting down a nearby corridor. 

Harry emerged from around the same corner as Tonks had, barely missing the frame by an inch. He had his wand drawn, and was looking rather peeved. When he spotted Snape, the boy’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. But when he almost ran over Volkova and her house elf, he stopped dead in his tracks and caught his breath. Volkova extended a hand to him. Harry stepped back from her, looked quickly at Snape and McGonagall, and glared back at the interviewee.

"Okay, Tonks. You aren’t fooling me this time." Harry put away his wand and held out his hand, palm up. "Give me Ron’s letter."

"You’re looking for a metamorphmagus, I presume," Volkova said. "She is around the next corridor."

"That fake accent isn’t going to fool anyone. I know it’s you, Tonks, and I’ll prove it," Harry said. 

He brashly took hold of Volkova’s shoulders and planted his mouth against hers. Severus was so startled he stood on the spot as if he’d been struck by a ‘Petrificus Totalus’ spell. 

"MR. POTTER!!!!" McGonagall raised her voice to the rafters. Harry pulled away, raising several fingertips to his mouth as his eyes grew wide.

"Why don’t you taste like licorice?" Harry mumbled. 

"Because she’s not Miss Tonks," McGonagall said, grabbing onto Harry’s sleeve and backing him away from the surprisingly-unfazed Volkova. Snape blinked at Harry and struggled to control the humor that was fighting to get out. Harry turned a shade of red usually reserved for high-blood pressure patients.

"Sorry," he whispered. 

"Mr. Potter, you and Miss Tonks can wait for me in my office," McGonagall growled. Her voice was straight from the bowels of Hell. Snape glanced down the corridor, and saw that Tonks was peering around the corner, her face a frightful shade of green. Tonks crept back over to them, entirely abashed.

"It’s my fault, Professor McGonagall," she said, producing a letter from inside her cloak. Also in her hand was a partially-consumed licorice whip.

"If you wish, I could finish showing Ms. Volkova around while you deal with the miscreants as you see fit," Snape offered to the Deputy Headmistress. 

"Don’t be too hard on the children. No harm done. Best kiss I’ve had in years," Volkova finally spoke. Although Snape wouldn’t have thought it possible, Harry went another shade more red. Tonks had a coughing fit that was the result of trying to hold back a peel of laughter. McGonagall gave her a withering stare, and that nagging cough cleared right up.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Minerva said as she took the letter in one hand, Harry’s elbow in the other, and marched the two youngsters towards her office. Malchik watched Harry with wide, bright eyes, her mouth open with surprise. She tugged on her mistress’s arm and Volkova bent down to hear her speak. Severus was disappointed when they again conversed in a language he didn’t recognize. Whatever the house elf had said, Volkova watched the departing trio. 

"Children. So very excitable," the interviewee murmured, finally giving a faintly-amused smile. 

"Yes," Snape agreed.

"So that was the famous Harry Potter?" Volkova asked. 

"The one and only," Severus nodded. Volkova’s greenish eyes studied Harry’s departing form. Snape’s radar went on high alert. 

"He’s older than I expected," she said cryptically. "Taller. Good kisser." 

"I wouldn’t know," Snape smirked. Volkova studied him, not sure what to make of the remark. "Now that you’ve met our resident celebrity, is there anything else we can offer you?" he asked innocently.

"The library. I’m most anxious to see the library."


	8. To London and Back

Early on Monday morning, there was a timid knock at Snape’s office door. Severus knew who it was, of course. No one else would have come down to annoy him at this hour, knowing he was anything but a morning person. What a day to sleep late!

"Wait where you are, with your eyes closed," Snape commanded. He reached the knob and slowly opened the portal. Harry stood there with his hands over his face. Remus Lupin stood next to him, face uncovered. 

"Why are you dressing in your office?" Remus asked. 

"Shut up, get inside, and close the door behind you," Severus added grimly. Remus watched Snape warily and nudged Harry gently towards the threshold.

"I wanted to apologize for interrupting the interview yesterday. Hope I didn’t make that woman change her mind about working here,"Potter mumbled behind his hands. 

"Quite the opposite, I’m sure," Severus replied, smirking nastily. "Perhaps she will come to count your kiss among our fringe benefits."

"There’s no need for sarcasm," Lupin chided. 

"There’s always a need for sarcasm," Severus replied. 

"I was sure she was Tonks, and that she’d slap me if I did that. I never imagined it was really someone else, honestly, Professor."

"Let it go, Mr. Potter," Severus said as he rolled his eyes. Remus peered inside Snape’s lair.

"Where did all those boxes come from? It must have taken six owls to carry them," Lupin commented. "How are you two going to spend the day?" Lupin asked. "Would it be forward of me to ask to join you?" 

"You’re very welcome to join us, of course. If it were up to me, we’d be elbow-deep in potion ingredients, the kind that wiggle. However, I have an errand that cannot be changed. These boxes relate to the errand."

"Oh. You’ve made other plans," Harry assumed, his voice soft with disappointment. No. With hurt. It was definitely hurt. The last thing Snape wanted was to inflict more pain on him. The boy had seen more than his fair share in his young life. Wait. Was he now actually feeling sorry for Harry Potter?! This was getting serious. He might have to see a specialist if this kept up.

"No," Severus murmured. "You’re coming with me, but only if you are on your best behavior. No scenes. No tantrums. No biting, scratching, kicking, or foul language. No kissing complete strangers."

"Oh!" This time, Harry’s voice betrayed his excitement, even if his face was masked in his fingers. Remus ushered Harry through the portal, making sure his face was still covered. He watched Snape warily again, his eyes ancient and sad at once. Severus wondered off-handedly how Lupin was dealing with the loss of Sirius Black, knowing better than most how close the men had been. Severus was pleased to see that Black’s friends had turned their grief into action, concerned immediately about Harry’s guardianship more than themselves. Who had been the first to suggest that Lupin step into the role of godfather to Harry? Had it been Dumbledore or McGonagall? Or had Lupin decided on his own that the boy needed a good role model very desperately?

Although Snape did bear a certain amount of anger and jealousy towards Lupin because of the events that happened the year Lupin was teaching at Hogwarts, all he could muster at the moment was pity. Pity for Lupin because of the loss of most of his close friends. Pity for Lupin at the guilt Remus must be feeling over having inherited so much wealth from Sirius Black. The remains of the Black fortunes had been divided, as per the instructions of Black’s will, between Lupin, Harry, and Tonks, under the proviso that they burned Grimmauld Place and its contents to the ground. Remus looked a decade older than the last time Snape had seen him, and that connected with a part of Severus he didn’t want to think about– his own mortality. If Lupin looked this old to Snape, how old must Snape look to his students and others?

"Tell me about your week so far," Severus commanded of Harry. 

Remus planted the boy in a leather chair and turned to snoop in the opened boxes. Snape stepped behind a small screen and continued to pull on clothes. He was halfway into a white shirt when he realized he could watch Potter through the slats of the screen. Harry’s slender hands clutched around for the arms to the chair nervously. Snape noted that Harry’s clothes under his robe seemed wonderfully mundane enough that he was going to blend in very nicely. The jeans were worn, but not too worn, and the black tee shirt was loose and comfortable at the same time. He looked so very Muggle, Snape mused to himself. How did he do it?

"Hagrid and I spent Tuesday in the Forest. Fed a few animals. Avoided the centaurs. They’re still a bit peeved. Collected a few mushrooms," Harry said.

"Go on," Snape said. Potter was turning his head to follow the direction of Severus’s voice. 

"Wednesday, Professor McGonagall and I went to visit her sister."

"Which one?"

"Artemis," Lupin replied meaningfully.

"Hmm," Snape commented. 

"You’ve met her?" Harry asked. 

"Oh, he’s met her," Lupin nodded. 

"What did you do Thursday?" Snape asked Harry, interrupting Lupin’s tangent quite on purpose. Harry was puzzled about their exchange, but did not divert again. The last thing Severus wanted to talk about with Harry was the week and a half he had spent in Artemis’s company, or should he say custody, as the younger McGonagall was in fact a skilled psychiatric doctor in one of St. Mungo’s most dangerous wards. Severus was certain that his visit with Artemis McGonagall and Harry’s visit with her had been horses of two very different colors. 

"Madam Hooch and I tested new racing brooms and flying maneuvers. She made me wear a helmet and goggles. I felt like an idiot. But I was more aerodynamic," Harry answered. 

"Are you considering resuming your Quidditch playing?" Snape asked.

"No. I really hadn’t thought about it. Too many other things on my mind," Harry said shyly. "Sure Draco will be happy to hear that."

"Perhaps not. I believe his interest in Quidditch was spurred by a keen desire to best you, and if you're not going to play, he may very well not play either. Although he did take great relish from besting Mr. Weasley, so one cannot be too sure," Snape said. "How was Friday?"

"Oh, Friday," Harry snickered. Snape leaned sideways at the curious sound. "Professor McGonagall and I went to have lunch with Aunt Petunia. She wanted to see how the rebuilding was going."

"How is it going?"

"It could take weeks to put Privet back together," Lupin put in. Harry seemed to find this very amusing. He was coughing back laughter. 

"What story did you give to the Muggles? Another gas explosion?" Snape asked dryly. 

"Ought to be outlawed," Lupin agreed. "What? You think we should have told them the truth?"

"Hardly. How did McGonagall and Mrs. Dursley get on?" Snape asked. Harry gave a quick snort of laughter, and Lupin tapped his knee lightly.

"It’s not funny, Harry."

"Professor McGonagall and Aunt Petunia had a bit of a private discussion that made Aunt Petunia extremely angry. I don’t know what it was about, because McGonagall sent me out of the room and into the kitchen. A sudden craving for tea, would I be a dear and make a pot? Whatever they talked about, Aunt Petunia was furious when I came back. Kept glaring at me. But the best news is, I’ve been banned from Privet," Harry smiled slyly. 

"It was all a misunderstanding," Lupin complained. "But that woman wouldn’t listen to reason."

"She said she’d talked to Uncle Vernon about me returning next summer, but that she wasn’t promising anything, and it was best to plan on me residing elsewhere. I said it was perfectly all right as far as I was concerned. If I’d known all I had to do to escape my incarceration at Privet was get Voldemort to blow up the house, well, bloody hell, I’d’ve put a target on the roof years ago. McGonagall said that wasn’t funny."

"It’s not," Lupin assured him grimly. "What are we going to do with you next summer?" Remus asked.

"I’ll go anywhere but there. I’ll sleep in a box in King’s Cross Station before I go back there," Harry said, his mood turning dark. "I’m sure there’s some way I can make myself useful to the Order. Do you really have your heart set on sending me back to those people?" he accused.   
"What’s the matter with you? Are you not going to be happy until they do me actual harm?"

Snape finished tying his shoes and sat down in the seat next to Potter’s. McGonagall didn’t want Harry going back to Privet any more than he wanted to go, but it wasn’t Snape’s place to reveal that. But he would do whatever he could to help her in the endeavor. Any fool could see the place was a source of great distress for the boy. 

"Harry, it’s not like that at all," Lupin tried to explain. Harry shrugged off the arm Remus put on his shoulder.

"Sure looks that way from my perspective," Harry growled.

"What did you and Hagrid do Saturday after McGonagall caught you with the maces and clubs?" Snape asked.

"We spent the rest of the day baking and cooking in the kitchens. Dobby said it was all right. The house elves got a good laugh out of watching us."

"Cooking?" Snape blanched. "You cook?"

"I’m not bad at it," Harry said, shrugging one shoulder. "What did you think of last night’s cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches?"

"Why?"

"Those were mine," Harry said, his smile coming back again.

"They were quite good," Snape begrudged. The crusts had been less-than-neatly trimmed off, but the contents had been very tasty. 

"You’re not just saying that?" Harry worried. 

"Not at all. Insincere flattery is not my usual modus operandi, is it?"

"No, sir. You know, if this whole wizarding things doesn’t work out, I mean to try my hand at being a chef, or a house elf."

"A what?" Lupin choked. 

"Mr. Potter," Severus chided. Surely the child was joking.

"Why not? I’m willing to foreswear clothes if necessary. I’m the house-elf when I’m at the Dursleys. No difference at all between me and Dobby, except I’m taller with more hair. Plus he’s got stronger magic."

"Nonsense. Preposterous. Really, Harry. I don’t ever want to hear you say such things," Lupin sputtered. "Your parents and Sirius would haunt me to my dying day if I allowed you to do such a thing." Lupin cut himself off as Harry’s eyes filled.

"Dobby said with a bit of training I’d be a great chef, and he meant it as a great compliment, I’ll have you know."

"I don’t care what Dobby said," Lupin replied hotly. "Harry Potter, a house-elf!?" 

"I could stay in the kitchens next summer. No one would have to see me at all. I can’t bear going back to Privet," Harry whispered, his voice shaking. The trembling moved to his shoulders, slumped his entire frame downward by at least an inch. Lupin sighed heavily and sat down on Harry’s other side. Snape felt as if his heart had imploded, but he was staying out of this argument. He had twelve lists of ways to keep Harry occupied, but he doubted he’d be saddled with the boy for the entire summer next year. He had come up with the lists as a result of trying to find a bright side to having the boy for three days this year. He had come up with all manner of ghastly, even dangerous things to have the boy do, not all of them spiteful, and some the boy might even have enjoyed, particularly the cultivation of the night-blooming, blood-sucking villars flower. 

"I don’t want to hear any more about you being a house-elf," Lupin whispered. 

"I’m ready. Shall we?" Severus asked, rising up quickly. "You can open your eyes."

Snape heard the tiny tell-tale clicking of metal– Harry was taking off his glasses. Glancing over one shoulder, he could see that the boy was rubbing his eyes. By the time they were out in the hallway, Harry had his spectacles back in place. Severus was not surprised by the redness in his eyes, but Harry’s attempt at a cheerful smile caused further damage to Snape’s already-shaky heart.

"We’re going to London, aren’t we?" Harry asked.

"You guessed from my clothes?" Snape assumed, puffing up a bit. 

"That, and the train tickets in your pocket."

"Floo is still down, eh?" Lupin fussed. 

"Yes, I’m afraid so," Snape nodded. "Could take another two weeks."

"Muggle London?" Harry asked, looking Snape up and down. "How do you feel about constructive criticism regarding blending in?" he wondered. 

"This isn’t going to work?" Snape asked of his outfit. Harry shook his head no. 

"Most people would assume you’ve escaped a hospital somewhere. No one wears sneakers with a suit like that," Harry said. "Fewer still would wear that suit."

"Would my boots be more appropriate?"

"No. You need some nice, boring wingtips. That shirt won’t do either. Did you order that outfit by mail? That’s where all those boxes came from!"

"I’ve never had complaints before about my Muggle disguises," Severus growled.

"No one else would dare," Remus grinned at Harry’s brashness. 

"It’s Monday morning," Harry told them. "You’re both going to seem out of place as it is. People will wonder why you’re not at the office. But I can help," Harry offered hopefully.

"How?" Lupin asked.

"We could do a bit of shopping while we’re there, in and around Professor Snape’s appointment. We’re not picking up another book, are we?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus quickly assured him. "Maybe. No," he decided, but not firmly.

"We should shop. You do need to replace your clothes that were at Privet," Lupin agreed, nodding. Severus wondered if Remus was planning to assuage Harry’s foul mood by lavishing him with gifts. Bad Idea. Lupin clearly had a lot to learn about parenting. 

"See, you won’t mind having me around. I can be very useful to you both," Harry offered. Severus took the high road around that juicy opening for a witty retort. Harry was no more surprised than he was himself. Lupin blinked at Snape, and faced Harry.

"It’s not about you being useful, Harry. This coming summer, I want you to take a stab at being a normal child. Go to the seashore. Go to the mountains. Enjoy yourself for five minutes instead of worrying about how you can be useful," Lupin sighed impatiently. 

"Oh. Easy for you to say. You try relaxing knowing you’re being hunted by an insane dark lord bent of killing you. Yes! I’m relaxed already!"

"Can we discuss this en route? I’m going to be late," Severus interjected.

"What kind of appointment is it?" Harry asked Snape.

"All business, I assure you," Snape said quickly. "We’re meeting a contact of mine, and that’s all I can tell you."

"We’ll need Muggle money to shop outside Diagon Alley," Harry said. 

"I have some," Snape said, giving Harry the wallet out of his pocket. Potter opened it and let out a peep of shock. "Is it enough?" he asked. Harry nodded wordlessly and gave him back the wallet. 

***  
Potter, Lupin, and Snape made their way through the station at nightfall. Harry dragged along quietly behind his teachers, flipping through a newspaper. Severus was devouring one of the books he had purchased while they were shopping. Lupin was watching other people go by. No one gave them more than a passing glance. Snape wasn’t so engrossed in his book that he failed to notice Harry’s wide yawn.

"Mr. Potter, did you approve of the day? Was it time well spent?" he asked, closing the book and putting it in the attache that Harry had insisted he purchase as part of a continuing Muggle disguise.

"It was very interesting. But that man you met with? He was a complete nutter," Harry chuckled, giving the professor back the newspaper. 

"One too many taps? Did you zing when you should have zipped?" Remus asked Severus.

"Certainly not. Mr. St. John is invaluable to me."

"Was I imagining things, or did he sorta have your nose?" Harry wondered.

"Why would you need a contact who worked at a Muggle criminal forensics investigation lab of all places?" Lupin wanted to know. 

Snape smiled mysteriously, and Harry understood that the joke must be on him and Remus. What had they not picked up on? Today had been a test, and he had failed somehow. He squinted at Snape and furrowed his brow. 

"Are you working on Professor McGonagall’s list still?" he asked. Snape was wearing a lop-sided smirk that wouldn’t go away. He tried to adjust his expression to be more innocent, but failed miserably.

"Thank you for helping me get my suit straight, Mr. Potter. I shall remember your pointers for my next trip among the Muggles," Severus said. 

"He did have a Snape schnozzle, didn’t he?" Lupin agreed, having had time to consider the thought.

"You shouldn’t let that splendidly boring pair of wingtips go to waste," Harry said.

"They are exceedingly dull," Snape said as he stared at his feet. "Did I stick out?"

"You mean compared to the rest of those folks? Not one of those lab people has seen the light of day in a decade. I know vampires with better skin tone. Severus, they were just your kind. You blended in perfectly," Remus teased faintly. 

"Ah. A compliment. I may die of shock," Snape retorted. 

They reached an empty compartment and settled in. Snape consumed another book as Harry studied the landscape outside the window. Harry was asleep by the time they reached Hogwarts. Lupin was watching Harry with a tangible sadness around him. Probably still pondering that whole ‘house elf’ thing. Snape put away his book and studied the boy, trying to decide what to do. How were they going to get the boy back to the castle without waking him? Maybe he shouldn’t disturb Potter at all– the boy appeared to be sleeping very peacefully, curled up on the cushion, his glasses folded in front of him. One hand was settled over them protectively. 

It must hurt to grow that fast. His fingers were tight and slender. He was too thin. Much too thin. Thin like Lily. Beautiful like Lily. Severus couldn’t stop himself from thinking, while staring at Harry, that under different circumstances, this child would have been his. One of the Muggles at the clothing store had complimented him on what a polite teen he had raised. Snape had been a hair’s breadth from telling the fool off, as he didn’t have any children of his own, only ones he borrowed from other people, and ‘thank you so much for reminding me yet again of the areas in my life that are mournfully lacking. I had forgotten for a full five minutes that there was a gaping hole in my world’. 

Then he realized the man had mistakenly believed he and Harry were father and son. Severus had been left with a blazing coal of regret burning in his stomach all day from that silly encounter. Couldn’t anyone tell by looking at Harry that he and Severus were in no way related? Harry was quickly growing into everything Snape felt he never would be– tall, handsome, gallant, modest. Unlike James Potter, at least Harry was modest. Snape sighed to himself. Did it really take getting verbally and physically abused to make someone self-effacing about their accomplishments and abilities?

Lupin stood and stretched loudly. Bones crackled loudly as he twisted from side to side. Snape heard a tap at the train window and glanced sideways in annoyance. Hagrid’s grinning visage appeared.

"Where have you been? It’s after midnight. It’s officially been Tuesday for a couple hours now," Rubeus whispered when Snape lowered the window far enough that the giant could lean through the aperture. "What took you so long?"

"We went shopping for a few things," Lupin murmured, patting his chest pocket where the items had been shrunk and concealed. Severus wished he had done that the other day with Flitwick’s annoying packages. 

"Apparently I have been much deceived about my ability to blend in with Muggles," Severus commented. 

"Mm hmm," Hagrid said, secreting Harry’s glasses into a hidden pocket somewhere in his furry cloak. 

"I told you, you don’t take criticism well. We were worried you’d turn us into newts," Lupin interjected. 

"After my appointment, Mr. Potter suggested something laughingly called fast food. It was anything but. We almost missed the last train," Severus said. 

He decided not to mention that Harry had not consumed enough food for his liking. For a growing teen, he should be eating much more, Snape had thought. But Harry had nibbled at best, finishing half his sandwich and drink before insisting to Snape he was full. Lupin had tried as well to convince Harry to eat more, but he hadn’t had any more success than Severus had had. Hagrid would have known how to make Harry eat more, Snape was sure of it. Potter had been very amused when Lupin and Snape stared at the table, waiting for the dishes to magically clean themselves. Harry had spent the better part of ten minutes trying to explain why it was called ‘bussing’ the table, and further more why it was necessary at all. Snape gave half a thought to consulting Harry about giving him Muggle-blending lessons. Only half a thought. Maybe a quarter of a thought.

"Thought you’d gone and done something rash with him," Hagrid said.

"Like what?" Remus asked. 

"I’ve heard there’s child-slaving rings in London."

"We wouldn’t get much. He’s on the thin side. But in five years or so, once he fills out, we would get a good price," Snape said matter-of-factly. Hagrid gave Severus a hot, dirty look before hauling Harry carefully out the window. The giant folded the teen inside his cloak, with Harry’s arms up around his neck and his legs around Hagrid’s broad middle. He buttoned his coat behind Harry’s bottom, supporting him underneath on the swing of his huge arms. 

"Mm?" Harry’s hum was muffled. Snape wondered if he could breathe in there, or if he’d want to. 

"I got you, lad. Go back to sleep," Rubeus whispered. Harry’s grip around Hagrid’s neck tightened as he settled into a comfortable position. A hint of black hair peeked out of Hagrid’s coat. Hagrid was smiling wistfully, rubbing Harry’s back through the coat. Potter had said something else, but Snape couldn’t hear him. 

"Are there really child-slaving rings in London?" Lupin asked Snape as an aside. Severus seized the opportunity for all it was worth.

"I can recommend a contact in Knockturn Alley," he said with a malicious leer. Lupin glowered at him. 

"It’s lucky for you I know you’re kidding, Snape," Remus answered. 

"How was your appointment?" Hagrid asked Severus. "What did you dig up on Volkova? McGonagall’s been pacing around her office all afternoon."

"She doesn’t have a criminal history in the United Kingdom. St. John will let me know the instant he finds anything on her abroad."

"McGonagall will be pleased," Lupin said. 

"Pleased? She’ll jump up and click her heels," Hagrid smiled. 

"Is there any particular reason you traipsed all the way there?"Remus asked Snape. "It’s not like you couldn’t have contacted St. John a different way."

"I had to hand deliver a particular vial to him."

"I wondered what took so long in the back room."

"It’s a very volatile potion. By hand was the only safe way to deliver it."

"Naturally," Remus nodded. 

"I’ve been meaning to ask," Hagrid said over his shoulder. "Did you take Harry’s card from him?"

"Which card?" Lupin wanted to know. 

"Yes," Severus replied. He knew which card, obviously. "He asked too many piercing questions."

"Told you he was a fast one. Give it back– won’t you? He looked all over for it and was disappointed when he thought he lost it," Hagrid pleaded.

"It’s remarkable he found one of her cards as it is. There are only five, and I sent them to the four corners of the earth on purpose."

"Which card?" Lupin asked again, feeling left out.

"Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find one for him," Hagrid laughed. Snape raised a dark brow at that comment, but let it pass. He had known it wasn’t a coincidence that Harry had gotten one of his wife’s cards, but wasn’t sure he liked having Hagrid taunt him about it. It burned a hole right through his stomach in fact. He had suspected the absent-minded and well-meaning Dumbledore had given it by accident, or perhaps the insidiously-cunning McGonagall– ever-shrewd, ever-watchful– but never Hagrid. 

"What are you going to do with him tomorrow?" Snape asked. 

"Which card?" Remus pressed, his brow furrowing. 

"He asked if I could teach him to use a few of the weapons around the castle. Dying to get his hands on the broadswords."

"Is that such a good idea after how angry McGonagall got about the maces and clubs??" Snape wondered.

"Oh, sure it is," Hagrid said eagerly. "We’ll be much more discrete this time."

"Which card?" Remus asked, raising his voice. 

"His missus," Hagrid poked a thumb towards Snape. Remus turned with a wicked smile. Severus made a sour face. 

"One word, Lupin. One word and I’ll fry you," Snape growled.

"Garlic," Lupin quipped. Snape glared intensely at him. Hagrid wondered briefly if he should get between them, but decided against it. 

"It’s a wonder to me that you haven’t ended up in a glass jar with a caution sign on it," Severus hissed, crossing both arms over his chest.

"You two act your ages," Hagrid told them sharply. "What are you going to do with Harry next Monday?"

"You could give him an in-depth lecture about vampires?" Remus suggested. 

"No," Severus insisted, giving Lupin the most evil-eye he’d ever endured.

"Werewolves?" Lupin smiled. "I’m willing to help with that."

"No," Severus repeated. "No thank you." 

"The walking dead? Zombies? Banshees? Harry loves that kind of thing, you know. He has a talent for it," Lupin said. 

"You could get him very interested in the Dark Arts, if you tried hard enough," Hagrid suggested. 

"I believe Mr. Potter has had quite enough of the Dark Arts in his life to satisfy even the most ravenous curiosity. And might I remind you, I am the POTIONS MASTER. What else can you recommend to spark his attention?"

"Me?" Hagrid’s eyes went wide.

"Both of you. Either of you."

"I’m hearing things." Remus rubbed one ear quickly. 

"I’m his teacher. I’m not an entertainer, and I’m certainly not Mr. Potter’s friend," Snape murmured. "You both know Harry far better than I do." He was painfully aware that Potter was happily curled up inside the giant’s cloak, snuggled against the furry brute. What was it like to have someone trust you so much they’d sleep against you? 

"I happen to know you can duel with more than a wand," Hagrid began.

"Yes? What’s your point?"

"You’ve a fair pair of pretty rapiers locked up in your study," Lupin said. "Rapiers that haven’t seen the light of day since you and Lily used to duel."

"You aren’t actually, seriously suggesting I teach a child how to use a deadly, three foot long piece of sharpened metal. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea."

"Sure it is," Hagrid smiled. 

"Think of it as Defense against Dark Arts training for when he doesn’t have his wand," Remus nodded. "I’ll help in whatever way I can."

"Harry would love that. He’d lap that up like milk," Hagrid agreed. Snape let that idea bounce around his head for a couple seconds, and shook his head.

"Too dangerous," Snape dismissed. "Our time would be better served if I tended to his scholastic needs rather than feeding his lust for danger and pain." 

"Severus, you are the absolute definition of avoidance behavior, aren’t you?" Lupin accused.

"I’m not avoiding anything. Let’s get back to the fucking castle, shall we?" he snapped.

"Avoidance behavior and misplaced anger issues," Hagrid murmured to Lupin. Snape ignored them, walking on ahead in the direction of Hogwarts.


	9. First Night Feast

"Your parents weren’t offended I didn’t come stay, were they?" Harry asked worriedly as Ron jumped into the space on the bench next to him. Ron and Hermione’s prefects’ meeting had run longer than intended, and they had both missed the Sorting Ceremony.

"No. Once McGonagall explained to them what your aunt said had been happening over the summer, they understood perfectly," Ron replied.

"I was worried something would happen to one of you, you know?" Harry said, bowing his head.

"They weren’t offended," Ron assured him.

"Were you?" Harry tested. Ron grinned suddenly.

"Yes, you dirty git," he muttered, putting on a quick, completely fake glare.

"Oh, so you’d fancy getting choked in your sleep? I tried to do Aunt Petunia in that way. I tried to bludgeon Dudley with my bedside lamp twice."

"I could handle you," Ron shrugged.

"Could you?" Harry found a small smile.

"Yeah. I know your weaknesses," Ron said, diving his fingers under Harry’s robe and into his ribs, scrunching and squishing around. Harry almost fell off the bench backwards, his laugh rolling loudly through the crowded Great Hall. Ron turned the tickling into a big, brutal hug. 

"Will you two please act your age?" Hermione chided as she sat down on Harry’s other side. "Honestly."

"Don’t mind her," Ron said, pointing a thumb at Hermione as he helped Harry right himself on the bench. "Probably that time of the month," he whispered to Harry, handing him the book he had dropped. 

"Have you been practicing Occlumency with Professor Snape over the summer?" Hermione asked Harry, giving Ron a dirty look.

"Um, we sorta mutually decided it wasn’t a good idea to pursue that particular topic," he replied. "But we haven’t been completely idle, if that’s what you’re asking. He said I could read any of his books I wanted to, and so I have been."

He showed Ron and Hermione the book he had dropped. 

"The Basics of Dueling," Ron questioned. "You mean, Snape is teaching you how to....?" Ron’s eyes went wide, and he quickly made a left and right motion with his hand. "No way! How did you swing that?" Ron bawled loudly.

"He’s not teaching me to duel. I’m reading about it. That’s all," Harry corrected. 

"If you learn enough from the book to prove you aren’t going to hurt yourself, Snape promised Lupin he’d teach you to fence," Hermione said. Harry and Ron looked quickly her direction. This was clearly news to Harry. 

"Really?" Harry gulped. 

"Oh, it’s a secret then?" Ron asked. 

"How’d you find out?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Tonks told me. We’ve been keeping in touch," Hermione smiled at Harry, who immediately had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"That means they’ve been spending all summer talking about us behind our backs," Ron told Harry.

"Oi. Bloody great," Harry commented.

"I thought we agreed we weren’t talking," Hermione said to Ron.

"Answering that remark would mean I’d be talking to you. I’m not talking to you," Ron told her gruffly.

"I heard you planted one on the new Dark Arts instructor," Hermione teased Harry.

"Wait. What’s that?" Ron demanded, taking her arm.

"Stop talking to me!" Hermione raised her voice at him. Harry was sure he had felt the shock wave of her scream raise the hair on his head.

"I’ll tell you about it later," he promised Ron, with every intention of obliviating Hermione if the chance showed itself.

"Remus Lupin agreed to help Snape with his Potions classes if Snape agreed to teach you to duel. That’s what Tonks told me," Hermione informed Harry softly as Dumbledore rose to his feet to talk.

"Did he really?" Harry’s eyes went wide. "He didn’t tell me that."

They went quiet as Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and began to speak.

"My Fellow Hogwarts students. How good it is to see you all again after so many weeks. I hope you have spent your summers well, but now that it’s over, I hope you’ve returned to Hogwarts with the intention of buckling down and getting busy on your studies. I know you must be hungry, and we will shortly be indulging in a well-deserved feast, just as soon as I’ve given the start-of-term notices."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses again and glanced down at the note in his hand.

"Ah. I’m sure many of you have wondered which brave soul we’ve convinced to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor for this year. I’m happy to announce that Professor McGonagall has selected Professor Anna Volkova from our list of candidates. Unfortunately, Professor Volkova has had a family emergency, and she will not be able to join us for tonight’s feast. I am assured she will be with us before the end of the week. In the meantime, another instructor will be standing in for her for the first week."

"Volkova. Sounds Russian," Hermione commented.

"Is that the one you bussed?" Ron wanted to know.

"Shhh," Harry squeaked under breath. 

"As with recent years, the Dark Forest is to be considered out-of-bounds. I understand there has been some confusion as to what this might mean. By the ‘Dark Forest’, I mean the place nearest to our game-keeper’s home where the trees are thickest. By ‘out-of-bounds’ I mean that you are politely requested to refrain. I don’t see how I can make this more plain, but if you need further clarification, please see me tomorrow, and I will try," he added, smiling in Harry’s direction. Harry felt the glance and ducked down out of sight. McGonagall handed Dumbledore another note from her place to his right. He glanced over the note quickly, still stifling a chuckle. "Professor McGonagall has asked me to announce that this term, she is reinstating the Odd Jobs bulletin board, asking that the students who answer these requests take these tasks seriously, or not at all."

"Odd jobs?" Harry puzzled. "Do you think they mean varied or peculiar?" he asked. 

"I’m sure they mean both," Ron grinned. 

"Right up your alley," Harry whispered to Hermione, who was beaming happily.

"Up yours too," Hermione replied. Harry was taken aback for half a second before she added, "The tasks are performed for either points or financial reimbursement. You both could use more points." 

"Not nearly as much as the financial reimbursement," Ron whispered to Harry. 

"And finally, concerning last year’s events which intruded so roughly and rudely into our pursuit of knowledge, I’m happy to report that the Ministry of Magic has decided to repeal all the edicts that had been put into effect by former professor/head mistress Dolores Umbridge. They are to considered null and void as of the start of this term."

A loud cheer rose up from all the table except that of the Slytherins. But no one was at all surprised by this. 

"Wonder how Malfoy will feel about that?" Ron laughed to Harry, who turned to glance over at the Slytherin table. "Oh, don’t bother. He wasn’t on the train."

"Where’s he at?" Harry gulped, dark nervousness nibbling at him.

"Arriving tomorrow. He was traveling back from France and got delayed," Hermione answered. "I heard Pansy wailing about how much she missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him."

"Oh, gag me," Ron moaned.

"That concludes the notices. Let’s eat," Dumbledore said loudly. The students cheered again and grabbed at the food when it finished materializing on their platters and plates. 

"So you been here since August?" Ron asked, stuffing a forkful of roast beef into his mouth. "Is it weird here without all the students and instructors?"

"Some of the instructors were still here," Harry revealed. 

"Only those with no place to go over the summer, " Ron said. Harry wondered sadly if that were true, that the ones who remained had no place else they’d rather be. He glanced up at the instructors’ table and saw Professor Snape surveying the crowd with a critical eye. Harry raised his goblet to Snape, and to his surprise, Snape returned the gesture very casually before turning to hear what McGonagall was saying.

"Is it true that Lupin got a house in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked. 

"Thought you were talking to Tonks. Didn’t she tell you all about it?" Ron retorted snidely before Harry could answer Hermione.

"Yes. It’s a nice place too," Harry smiled. "Doesn’t look big from the outside, but it’s got three bedrooms."

"Why so many?" Hermione asked.

"One for him. One for me," Harry said softly. 

"What about the third one?" Ron asked.

"For Sirius when he comes back," Harry explained. Hermione nodded, her eyes following Harry sadly. "Remus said I could visit on Hogsmeade weekends and any other time I want as long as I have permission from Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore," Harry went on, ignoring Hermione’s expression.

"So, does that mean you’re not going to the Dursleys next summer?" Ron gaped at him. Harry took a small bite of mashed potatoes and shook his head no.

"I’ve been banned. Aunt Petunia’s had enough of me."

"You won’t have to go back next summer?" Ron asked again.

"Not unless Aunt Petunia has a change of heart between now and then. Which is quite unlikely, owing to the fact she doesn’t have a heart," Harry said, feeling a twinge of guilt when he voiced the words. "Maybe she does. But there’s only enough room for Dudley there. He’s pretty good sized, so that’s understandable, don’t you think?"

"It’s wonderful news. I’m happy for you," Hermione whispered gently, putting an arm around Harry’s waist and pecking him on the side of the head.

"Let the man go already, and quit channeling his mum," Ron said testily. Hermione shot a deadly glance at Ron over Harry’s head.

"Why are you two fighting, anyway, or do I want to know?" Harry asked. Hermione picked up her glass and gulped angrily. Ron looked away, not answering. But his body language was clearly answering ‘no comment’ as well. "All right. You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal," Harry added. 

"It’s not personal!" Ron insisted.

"Okay," Harry nodded, puzzled.

"I’m not talking to him because he’s a chauvinist pig, and he ought to have an apple in his mouth and be turning over a flame pit," Hermione snapped.

"What did you do?" Harry asked Ron, giving him an apple off a tray within reach.

"Oh! I’m a chauvinist pig? You’re the one who’s two-timing me, with Oliver Wood of all people!"

"Two-timing!? How can I be two-timing you with anyone when we aren’t even....you haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend. And I’m not dating Oliver! He was in town, that’s all, and we had dinner with my parents."

"Shh!" Harry said, stopping Hermione’s sputtering before they attracted any more attention than they already had.


	10. In Hagrid's Hut

"Tell us how Lupin did it," Ron pleaded, streaking into Hagrid’s hut the next morning before classes, and throwing himself onto the bench by the fireplace.

"Hullo," Hagrid said, still standing at the door. "And how was your summer?" 

"Wonderful," Hermione said, giving Hagrid a squeeze around the middle. 

"How did Lupin talk Snape into giving Harry dueling lessons?" Ron wanted to know.

"That’s supposed to be a secret," Hagrid narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry shrugged. "Hermione is the one who told me."

"Is Professor Lupin really going to help Snape out with his potions classes?" Ron wanted to know. "Why would he help that git out?"

"He’s not really a git, Ron," Harry said quickly. Weasley gave him a wide-eyed gape. "Well, sometimes he is. But he’s been very nice to me this summer."

"Is he suffering from amnesia? A blow to the head from a blunt object?" Ron laughed.

"No. He’s just been very nice, that’s all," Harry said, wishing Ron would stop laughing that way.

"Someone must have put him up to it," Ron decided. 

"Yeah, sure," Harry said darkly. "Why else would anyone be nice to me?"

"That’s not what he meant, Harry," Hagrid chided softly. 

"Not at all," Ron added, shocked at Harry.

"I happen to have been passing through the hall this morning when McGonagall put up the Odd Jobs board," Hagrid told them.

"We should check it out on the way to class," Ron said, nudging Harry in the arm. Harry nodded in agreement, but his foul mood had not lifted. 

"I think that’s a great idea," Hagrid put in. 

"Perhaps you’d better see how the school work shapes up before you commit to anything though," Hermione said. "Tell us what you know about the new Dark Arts teacher," she pleaded, helping Hagrid put together four teacups.

"Oh, we’re lucky to get her," Hagrid whistled. "We nearly lost her to Durmstrang. It was this close. They lost their Dark Arts instructor last year too."

"We haven’t got Volkova yet. Dumbledore is standing in for her," Ron laughed, snatching a cake off the tray before Hermione even put it on the table between them. 

"What kind of family emergency came up?" Hermione asked. "No one could tell me. They were all pretty cryptic about it."

"It has to do with her grandfather. That’s all I know," Hagrid replied. 

"She got an owl at dinner night before last," Harry explained. "It landed right in front of her dessert. It wasn’t carrying a message, but it was the scariest damned owl I’ve ever seen in my life. It glared at her for a few seconds before bursting into ash all over the table. That was the message, I suppose. She started breathing funny, got up, and left the room. McGonagall followed her out into the hallway. McGonagall returned, but Volkova didn’t."

"That’s odd," Hermione agreed with Harry. 

"So do you like her?" Ron asked.

"Well, she’s different than Umbridge, that’s for sure," Harry replied cagily.

"How’s she different?"

"Taller," Harry said, motioning above his head. "Blonde. Green eyes. On the thin side. Kinda sticky. She could use a few square meals. She’s got her own house elf, name is Malchik. She’s a nervous little thing. Sneaking up and down the corridors, always watching her back. Wonder what she’s so afraid of. She’s not in the kitchens all the time, but Dobby said she pops in there with meal suggestions."

"Tell me about Volkova, not her house elf," Ron laughed. 

"Professor Volkova’s thirty-three, never been married, likes Italian food. She apparently spent a lot of time in Italy, living with her grandfather. Wait. Is that the same grandfather the owl was from?" Harry turned and asked Hagrid. It was then he realized the other three were staring at him, smiling strangely.

"Where did you find all that out?" Hagrid asked.

"I saw her resume on McGonagall’s desk," Harry admitted. "And I asked her, too."

"You spent a bit of time with her, eh?" Ron asked him.

"Hard not to. She all but followed Lupin and I around the grounds, and then she was popping up every five minutes when I was with Professor Snape Monday last," Harry smiled slyly. "Truth be told, if I were the romantic sort, I’d suspect she’s got her sights set on him."

"What?" Ron choked. "On Lupin or Snape?"

"Snape. But she was pretty conversational with Remus for that matter too. She knows all about Professor Snape. Followed him like a puppy. She’s either spying on him, or she’s got a crush on him. It sounded like a bit of hero worship going on." 

"For a minute there, you sounded like you might fancy her," Ron teased Harry. 

"Not even remotely," Harry denied. Hagrid chuckled deeply. "What?"

"I’m siding with Ron on this," Hagrid said. "You do sound like you fancy Volkova."

"She’s twice my age, and besides," Harry nibbled on a cake, sitting carefully back on the bench. 

"Besides what?" Ron pressed.

"Besides, what the hell would she want with me?" Harry muttered. 

"You did kiss her right on the lips," Hermione mused. "Maybe’s she’s got the wrong idea about you."

"Will one of you tell me how that happened?" Ron asked. 

"I was chasing Tonks, who was Snape, because she took your letter from me. Tonks went around the corner. When I followed, there was Snape, McGonagall, and Volkova. No Tonks. Since Snape was standing with McGonagall, I assumed Volkova was Tonks."

"And you kissed her? Harry, who'd've thought you'd have it in you!" Ron laughed.

"Kissed is a strong word," Harry resisted.

"Tongue and everything." Hermione teased. "Don’t lie, Harry. It was one helluva buss."

"It was purely a case of mistaken identity," Harry assured Ron. "I don’t go around kissing strange people all the time."

"What made you think you could kiss Tonks like that? Have you and Tonks been seeing each other?" Ron asked, curious and jealous as well.

"No. I figured if I kissed Tonks like that, she’d clobber me. That was the plan. She’d be so mad, she’d drop the disguise. But, fuck me, it weren’t no disguise," Harry wailed.

"That’s enough of that language," Hagrid chided.

"Never been so humiliated in all my life," Harry added sulkily. 

"Tonks said Volkova said it was the best kiss she’d had in years," Hermione said. 

"I’m quite certain she was being sarcastic," Harry scoffed.

"Don’t be so sure. She’s thirty-three and single," Ron laughed. 

"Single and celibate are not the same thing," Harry retorted. 

"You expect that kiss might get you some extra points in Dark Arts?" Ron teased. "Cause I’m willing to be sexually harassed if it means my average rises."

"But I’m sure she’s not....Ron! It’s not like that," Harry squeaked when Ron put his two index fingers together and made little kissy noises.

"That’s enough," Hagrid laughed, separating the two boys when they began to tussle about. "Off to class with the lot of you."

"There’s rules against that besides," Hermione interjected, patting Harry’s arm. "If she does anything untoward to you, you tell McGonagall, and Volkova will be in a jar on her desk for a month."

"Pervert," Harry said to Ron, who laughed and made more kissy noises.


	11. The Wolf

"Ron, you’re staring again," Harry whispered to his friend in the study room. "You’re also sorta green," Harry added, turning a page in his book and resting his chin on his hands. "You aren’t going to upchuck slugs, are you?"

"Can’t imagine it. You bussed her? Right on the lips?" Ron asked, putting his book flat and assuming a position much like Harry’s, chin on hands, gazing at the pages before him. Harry’s gaze bounced up to the table at the head of the room, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Volkova were carrying on a friendly conversation. 

"Did you know ‘Volkova’ means wolf in Russian?" Hermione put in across from them. Harry’s eyes went under the instructors’ table. He wondered where Malchik was hiding. He had seen her come in with Volkova, but she was not sitting at the table or standing behind her mistress. No matter how calm and collected Volkova always was, there was no denying that Malchik was Anxiety Incarnate.

"Don’t you find her attractive, Harry?" Ron wanted to know. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, hiding behind her book. "Go on. Be objective. Give her a look," Ron pleaded. 

Harry ignored his book for the meantime and looked around again. He found Volkova had gone over to the Slytherin table. She was deep in conversation with Draco Malfoy. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant conversation either. The other Slytherins were passing a book around the table, laughing heartily. She held out a hand and waited. The book was quietly surrendered. Harry shrugged one shoulder, very aware that Hermione was glowering at him and Ron quite fiercely.

"Wish you’d stop going on about her. It’s embarrassing," Hermione complained.

"She’s fair, I suppose," Harry answered. "Especially when she looks like she wants to tear Draco’s nose off. But she’s taller than me."

"Almost everyone is taller than you, Harry. Why are you laughing?" Ron wanted to know when Harry started to smirk.

"She and Draco must use the same hair dye," Harry joked, putting his chin back down on his hands. 

"What?" Weasley laughed, darting his head back around.

"Their hair is the same color. Always suspected Malfoy wasn’t a natural blond." 

"Maybe they have the same hairdresser," Ron shrugged. 

"What do you suppose happened to her grandfather?" Harry wanted to know. "She didn’t say a thing about it when she came back and started teaching classes. It’s been a week, and nothing. By looking at her, you wouldn’t think it was anything bad, but I get the feeling she’s just not talking about it."

"Yeah. Some people can be uncommunicative when they’re in pain. They’re not good at sharing what’s wrong," Ron said meaningfully. Harry pretended to be ignorant, but knew that had been a big hint about something.

Harry had awakened twice this week after terrible dreams about his cupboard to find Ron sitting beside his bed in the dorms. He had seen Ron talking to McGonagall as well, and the very next day, McGonagall had had him into her office for a visit. She had lessened his classload by removing Muggle Studies, giving him an extra afternoon each week to figure out what the hell to do with himself. Dumbledore had had Harry up for tea at least once a week since school started. They talked about his school work, the Dursleys, creature care classes with Hagrid, the Dursleys, how Harry was liking having access to Snape’s private library, the Dursleys. Harry wasn’t always the brightest bulb on the tree, but even he was starting to pick up on a theme here. It was touching they were concerned, but on the other hand, Harry felt they were all breathing down his neck. The fact of the matter was, it had occurred to him that he should admit he was quite miserable at the Dursleys and never wanted to return, but this should have been pretty evident to anyone with half a brain and two thoughts that linked in sequence. And telling them all how miserable he actually was there smacked a bit of whining, which Harry would go to any length to avoid. Instead of laying out the complete truth on the topic, Harry adopted a plan of avoiding the topic, hoping it would make the sudden interest in the Dursleys diminish. Much to his surprise quite the opposite happened.

"Would you look at Malfoy?" Harry changed the subject. "Wouldn’t you say he’s rather pale for a bloke who spent the summer on the French Riviera?"

"How do you know that’s where he spent the summer on the Riviera?" Hermione asked.

"I have my sources," Harry replied.

"Who cares about Draco? I want to know more about Volkova," Ron complained. "Like how she feels about striking red-heads."

"Why do you want her to hit you?" Harry asked with feigned innocence.

"Not what I meant, stupid git." Ron made a face. Harry broke into a wicked smile. 

"If you’re so keen on getting to know more about Professor Volkova, why don’t you go talk to her?" Hermione said. Harry detected more than a hint of jealousy in her voice. 

"No, Hermione. I don’t think that’s such a good idea," Ron protested.

"Why not? Afraid she’ll hex you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. 

"Oh, be serious," Hermione gnashed her teeth at them as if to ask why she always had to be the adult of their group. 

"Wonder if Professor Snape knows anything about her," Harry pondered quietly. "Want me to ask him tomorrow? I’m supposed to return the dueling book."

"Finished reading it yet? Learnt anything?" Ron said, peering over Harry’s shoulder. 

"Enough to know I’m in over my head," Harry replied. 

"Has he let you touch his sword yet?" Harry stared at Ron for a second, and his grin got even more wicked. "Not what I meant either," Weasley muttered, rolling his eyes. 

"I’m to learn the manual inside out. I may not even get to the whole handling the swords, you know."

"Why would you want to learn how to use a sword?" Hermione asked. "I mean, if you’re going Muggle, wouldn’t a gun be faster?"

"It was Hagrid’s suggestion apparently," Harry defended. "He said it would give me an outlet for my pent-up hostility. Professor Lupin agreed, and they set about persuading Professor Snape."

"I never noticed you had pent-up hostility," Ron joked.

"It’s pent-up well then, wouldn’t you agree?" Harry replied, going back to reading. "We got in trouble for trying to use the maces, and the rapiers were Hagrid’s idea."

"I’ve always suspected you needed an outlet or two, especially considering how you took after Sirius in the Shrieking Shack. You were like a complete madman," Hermione whispered.

"You will remember of course that at the time, I thought he had killed my parents," Harry reminded her softly without looking up. 

"Mr. Potter?" a voice behind Harry made him turn in surprise. He should have known who it was by the way Ron was suddenly turning colors and squirming in his seat.

"Yes, Professor Volkova?" 

"I wonder if you have your Transfiguration notes," Volkova said, her emotionless green eyes wandering around the table. Everyone pretended to be engrossed in their work. Harry dug through his bag to retrieve the right book. Ron gaped at Volkova like a shocked fish. Hermione had to fight the fleeting but very keen desire to pull Volkova’s long blond hair. But at least Volkova was here about Harry and not Ron. 

"What do you think of Hogwarts so far? Is it better than your last school?" Hermione asked, deciding to work out her jealousies with a polite conversation. She could like Volkova if she tried hard enough. She knew she could. 

"It’s different, of course," Volkova replied hesitantly. "The weather is rather a nice change. Malchik keeps taking recipes from home to the house elves, bless her heart. I’ve had to put a silencing spell around my office during certain hours, and someone has taken at least three of my best quills already. The coffee is simply unspeakable."

"I must have my notes somewhere. Hang on," Harry whispered, digging further into his bag. 

"The uniform skirts are too short for my taste. I find the older boys are distracted from their work. I wonder if I should ask Professor McGonagall to give young ladies the option of wearing trousers instead," Volkova continued.

"That’s an excellent idea!" Hermione gushed. 

"Why would you want to wear trousers?" Harry asked Hermione, whose eyes were glowing with new-found admiration.

"She wants to get into our pants," Ron squeaked, trying to hold back his amusement. Harry laughed with Ron until Hermione and Volkova both scowled fiercely at them. The boys quickly stopped laughing.

"I know I have my notes somewhere," Harry said. He started taking things out of his bag and stacking them on the table. Wizard cards tumbled everywhere. Ron scooped them up and stacked them, flipping through eagerly.

"McGinnis the Magnificent? Merlin, he gets around," Weasley commented.

"Mr. Potter, you may stop searching. You don’t have your notes," Volkova said. She produced a book from out of her robe sleeve and gave it to Harry. "Yours was not among the books Professor McGonagall was marking. Mr. Malfoy was passing a book around among his friends, and that roused my suspicions. He must have taken them from you after class, while you were helping Mr. Longbottom." 

From the Slytherin table, Malfoy was glaring daggers at her. Volkova flashed him a malevolent look, narrowing her eyes. Draco flinched away, hunched down in his place, and muttered to Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Thanks for rescuing them," Harry said. 

"I wouldn’t open it here. Not in mixed company," Volkova cautioned. "Mr. Malfoy must believe he has a future as a graphic artist. Lots of despicably nasty things about you and Mr. Weasley here. Afraid he’s rather overly fond of the Oedipal explicative too."

"Thanks," Harry said, putting it into his bag and closing the top. Oedipal explicative? He’d have to ask Hermione later about that. 

"Maybe you can get someone to do a cleaning spell on it?" Volkova suggested. "Professor McGonagall could show you. She taught me a very easy one only this afternoon. Someone charmed my coffee mug to spit at me."

"Thank you. I will ask her later," Harry said. Volkova waited awkwardly. She seemed to want the conversation to continue. 

"I see you’re reading Miguel dePunto," she said, running a hand over Snape’s dueling book. "A fine choice as a beginner’s manual. dePunto’s works on swordplay are admired far and wide. Clear and concise on technique without boring the reader with unnecessary chatter."

"Do you know how to fence?" Harry asked. 

"I dabble," she decided to say, but her eyes twinkled briefly. 

"What do you think of Hogwarts so far?" Harry whispered, not at all comfortable with the way her eyes were traveling over him. 

"I already asked that," Hermione reminded him under her breath.

"Just making conversation," Harry shrugged. "Is everything all right at home? How is your grandfather?"

"Brunhilde the Fair. Wow, is she ever," Ron agreed, continuing to flip through the cards. 

"You have such an unusual wand," Hermione interrupted, noting the silver cap was that was facing out of Volkova’s robe. 

"A family heirloom," Volkova said with a sad voice. She pulled it from her side and let Hermione examine it. It seemed an ordinary wand to Harry but for the two initials on the top. 

"Who is I.V.?" Hermione asked. She wiggled the silver cap, and it slid downward to reveal a hidden chamber with liquid inside. Greens and silvers chased each other around in the light as Hermione held it up. It was clear from the professor’s expression that she very much wanted to snatch it away from Hermione. 

"Ivan Volkov," she said. "One of my ancestors."

"What’s that inside?" Harry asked.

"Potion," Volkova stalled.

"What kind of potion?" Harry asked.

"A delicate one which must not be jostled about," Volkova said, holding out her hand. Hermione returned the wand to her. 

"Where did you get it?" Harry asked. 

"It was a gift from my grandfather," Volkova whispered. Her voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "It’s been in the family for generations. I will carry it, now that he is gone."

"Where did he go?" Harry asked. Volkova studied him before she found a half smile. She patted the top of his head as she replied.

"To visit relatives," she told him. Hermione shook her head at Harry.

"Will he be back soon?" Harry wanted to know.

"Mate, she means he’s dead," Ron put in somewhat unnecessarily.

"Oh. Terribly sorry," Harry blushed. Volkova thrust the wand back down inside her robe. Harry’s eyes followed, until Volkova raised a brow at him in warning. 

Professor Snape came striding into the room and halted on the threshold, shooting his dark eyes in Volkova’s direction. The stare Volkova returned was absolutely scathing. Harry was curious what had caused such a rift between them. Severus headed to the front of the room and sat beside McGonagall. Professor Snape was watching the exchange between Harry and Volkova closely while trying to look inconspicuous about it, which only made his surveillance that much more obvious. 

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, stopping on one of the cards. "How did you....where did you....you did NOT get this by accident....where did you ever find her?"

Harry leaned over to see what Weasley was sputtering about, and came face to face with Illumina Snape’s winking portrait. He was about to explain to Ron that it had been from Hagrid, when he went completely still. Volkova was leaning against him to look at the card Ron was holding up. Her breath against the side of his neck was making all his blood rush down between his thighs. And his body started to notice other nice things about her, like her clean scent, her delicate long fingers, her moonlight pale skin. She was wearing a slender silver band on her left index finger, a ring he had never noticed before. Was that from her grandfather too? It glittered teasingly at Harry. 

"I don’t know how you feel about good luck charms and the like, but if you want to last longer than the other Dark Arts Instructors, I’d look into it," Hermione suggested, while taking the cards away from Ron and putting them away in Harry’s bag. She dragged Harry’s bag over to her side of the table and hid it down by her feet on the floor.

"But he’s got –" Ron protested.

"I don’t care who he’s got. You’re being rude," Hermione told him pointedly.

"Great, now she’s channeling my mum too," Ron whispered to Harry. 

"What do you think of Professor Snape?" Hermione wondered, leaning forward on one arm and studying Volkova. Harry nudged Hermione under the table, causing Volkova to look from Granger back to Potter. 

"He’s a bit stiff, but I suspect underneath that hard facade is a very kind man waiting for a chance to prove himself so. He could even be attractive if he stopped making that nasty face all the time."

"Attractive?" Ron managed to get out. His face had a mixture of horror and humor on it that was fascinating to see. 

"Handsome even, in that ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ sort of way," Volkova nodded.

"That’s not good at all," Hermione fretted.

"Oh. I see. You’ve heard the rumors," Volkova paused suddenly. "That’s why you’re asking all these questions. Curious little Gryffindors."

"No," Harry insisted, shaking his head. 

"What rumors?" Ron asked.

"I won’t stoop to repeating them, except to clarify that they are not true," Volkova murmured, turning a bit more to face Hermione. Harry felt the professor’s arm brush his back, and trace down his spine. He barely stifled a moan. 

"What I heard Malfoy saying in Herbology was that you were fired from your last teaching position because you had a relationship with one of your students. But Malfoy is hardly what I’d consider a reliable source. You would have never been hired here if that were remotely true," Hermione said bluntly. "Professor McGonagall would have never let you past the front door. So obviously it’s not at all true. I knew that."

"I had a relationship with one of the instructors that I worked with, not one of the students. Mr. Malfoy was misinformed," Volkova said. 

"Good to hear," Hermione nodded, quickly putting on a nervous smile. 

"Professor Volkova, if you’re setting your sights on Professor Snape, there’s something you very much ought to know," Harry warned.

"What’s that, Mr. Potter?"

"He’s married," Harry said. Volkova’s face warmed with the first genuine laugh that Harry had seen from her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I know he was married," she replied. "I met his wife when she was alive. We worked together in the Deusredeti before her disappearance and death."

Harry could actually see wheels start turning in Hermione’s brain. Had the well-read Miss Granger heard of the wizarding cult or not? Harry sweated as he waited for Hermione to say something out-of-bounds. 

"Deusredeti?" Hermione’s eyes glowed brightly. "What was it was like, working with them?"

"Snape was married?" Ron puzzled. 

Harry glanced at the head table again. Snape was putting down his quill and closing his ink well very loudly. In another two seconds, he’d be getting to his feet. 

"That was many years ago. The tale of her death is not one for impressionable children," Volkova went cold again.

"The Deusredeti are infamous though, banned in many countries," Hermione added. "Everyone knows that, of course."

"I know who they are," Ron rolled her eyes at her. 

"What did they do to get banned?" Harry wanted to know. Volkova glanced nervously in Snape’s direction. Their eyes met, and Snape bared his teeth at her like a feral wolf. 

"Wow," Hermione gushed. "Deusredeti. I mean, they’re famous, of course."

"Until tomorrow, children," Volkova said, as she brushed a hand through Harry’s locks, touching the very nape of his neck. She left the study room on quiet feet. Harry was having trouble remembering how to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. 

"That was odd," Ron commented. He gave Volkova a brief dark look before smiling faintly at Harry.

"Yes, odd," Harry agreed. He avoided Hermione’s gaze by pretending to read from his dueling book. A volatile breeze brushed past his back, and Harry knew without looking that Professor Snape had followed Volkova out of the room. He tried not to look, but felt compelled to regardless. 

Snape had caught up with Volkova right outside the door, and their nearly silent conversation brought more color to Volkova’s face than Harry had ever seen. Severus pointed back at Harry, and Potter ducked that blackened gaze, filling with terror. Whatever Harry had done, Snape was simply furious with him. He held very still, wishing away the hard ache throbbing between his thighs. He edged closer to the table and tried to concentrate on his book. He wondered how long would he have to sit here before he could stand up and not attract undue attention to himself. 

"I wouldn’t buy that wedding present just yet," Ron said to Harry, indicating Snape and Volkova’s continuing argument. Snape snapped his fingers, and a translucent circle of green went up around them. Then the real shouting began. The orb quivered as it absorbed the sound waves. Harry had to admit he was impressed that Volkova wasn’t shrinking back from Snape, as most people might if trapped near the towering professor when he was in the middle of a full-blown, raging, screaming fit.

"She’s like an onion. She’s got a lot of layers," Hermione said. "I mean, she’s cold, but she’s likeable, you know? Unsettling, but nice. I have a funny feeling about her, but I don’t think she’s up to no good. I’m not sure what to make of her."

"You all right, Harry?," Ron teased, digging under the table for Harry’s bag. Harry sat closer to the table and turned even redder. Hermione watched them with unamused eyes, going back to her notes. "Feel like a walk?" Ron asked.

"No, think I’ll sit a while," he answered back casually.

"How about a nice cold shower?"

"Ron, shush," Harry threatened, frowning at him. Ron only grinned wider.

"Really, you two, you’re like a couple of five year olds. It’s like I’m babysitting when I’m with you," Hermione chided. "It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry."

"If she can tell from this close, it really isn’t," Ron cracked up. Harry put his head down on his arms, wanting to poof out of existence right there. 

"At your age, it’s perfectly normal for your body to react to innocent...what?" Hermione said when Harry lifted his head and glared at her hotly. "Try thinking about something else," she suggested.

"Like what?" 

"The person you’d least like to, you know," she motioned her hand in the air, putting down her book. "Suppose that might work."

"Professor Snape?" Ron suggested helpfully. "Professor McGonagall?" he grinned. "Snape with McGonagall?"

"That depends," Harry almost smiled.

"On what?"

"Who’s on top?" Harry laughed. Ron pondered briefly. 

"Well, that’s a good question," Ron agreed. "Any thoughts on the subject, Miss Know-It-All?" he asked Hermione. Granger gave him a withering look. 

"Some day, I’m going to kill you, Ronald Weasley. I’m going to get a medal for it too," Hermione said acidly.

"Hey, Harry? How about Hermione with that expression? No man could possibly think about sex with that staring at him," Ron said. 

"I wouldn’t go there. Remember, she’s a witch, and she can curse your sex drive," Harry warned him.

"What makes you think I haven’t already?" Hermione whispered wickedly, getting up from the table and leaving. Ron quickly picked up his books.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"To bug her some more," Ron grinned.


	12. Roving Fancies

Once he could return to Gryffindor Tower, Harry opened his school books and studied until dinner time. After dinner alone, because Ron had mysteriously vanished and not yet returned, Harry threw on his robe, and disappeared out of the tower. Ron had probably teamed up with Hermione somewhere else on the castle grounds, Harry decided. Weasley was pressing his luck by pestering Hermione. Harry hoped she didn’t get totally violent with him. Potter’s feet carried him around the castle aimlessly, until he found himself down in the dungeons near the Potions classroom. Surprisingly enough, there was a light on in the classroom.

The weeks before school had started, he and Professor Snape had met in the classroom or in the library to read, but clearly, with the student body back, if they wanted any privacy that was going to come to an end. He wondered if Snape was setting up the classroom for tomorrow’s class. Maybe he was even preparing for other lessons. The door opened as Harry approached.

"Come in. Watch where you step."

Snape’s voice indicated he might have been expecting Harry, which was odd, because Harry had wound up here by coincidence, hadn’t he? Harry’s suspicion was incorrect– Snape had a fencing diagram drawn on the board. The rapiers were glistening, silver cushioned on black, in the oblong box opened on the only remaining table in the room. Harry eyed them excitedly. Snape was preparing in case Harry did deserve fencing lessons?! But what had become of the chairs and potions paraphernalia that was usually here? He caught a shadow above his head and looked up. The tables and chairs were on the ceiling. With the chairs and tables gone, the thick layer of dust on the floor was very noticeable.

"Your house elf doesn’t like to sweep?" Harry asked. "Professor," Harry said, pointing upwards worriedly.

"Don’t be concerned. They aren’t coming down." 

"Why are they up there?"

"I’m redecorating," Severus quipped. When he got down on all-fours and started moving forward in a straight line, Harry watched him, worried he had lost his mind.

"Are you looking for something?" the boy asked tentatively. Snape cast a glance back over one shoulder that made Harry squint. "Clearly, or you wouldn’t be crawling around. What are you searching for?" 

"Someone, Mr. Potter, has let a dangerous creature loose in this room. I am searching for said creature. How curious that you would arrive on my doorstep at this particular moment."

"What kind of dangerous creature?" Harry asked, eyes intently on the floor.

"Do you know what a roving fancy is?"

"It’s when you do something unexpected of you, something you’d never normally do."

"Ah. I should have suspected you’d think of one in Muggle terms. No, Mr. Potter. Guess again. Unless you want to meet a roving fancy in person, I suggest you stand over there in that corner and hold very still. If you are calm, and think serious thoughts, it won’t detect you. Whatever you do, don’t sit down on the floor where it can reach your backside."

"My what??" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter, quit asking questions and go stand over there," Snape scolded as he pointed to the corner nearest the door. Harry stood against the wall and watched his professor walking on his hands and knees. This might have been funny if it weren’t clear that Professor Snape was very worried. He paused now and again, bending further down to inspect what must have been tracks or traces in the layer of dust. 

"Who put the roving fancy in here?" Harry asked. 

"I was occupied, had my back to the door. By the time I turned around, they were gone."

"You had your back to the door?" Harry gasped. "That was unusually dense of you."

Snape’s look was reply enough. He unbuttoned one cuff and put his hand to the floor, closing his eyes. Was he trying to sense where the roving fancies were? 

"Can I look at the rapiers?" Harry asked. 

"If you must, yes, but disturb the dust as little as possible," Severus whispered. Harry edged closer to the rapiers and devoured their gleaming beauty. He didn’t notice Snape’s eyes travel over to him as he paced around the table, ogling the swords from every angle. 

"I’ve been remiss," Snape said quietly.

"How is that?" Harry asked without looking back. 

"It has occurred to me you don’t have a proper fencing suit. If you prove to me you’ve read the manual with more than a passing glance, I will remedy the situation before next week. Once I have tested you on the manual, I will expect action from you, Mr. Potter."

"I won’t disappoint you," Harry promised. Snape snorted quietly and continued his search. Harry reached out his fingers to caress one of the blades, and felt Snape standing at his back. 

"No. Not yet, Mr. Potter," Severus whispered, keeping his hand on Harry’s arm. "In fact, you should probably not be standing near them. What if the fancy should bite you? You might do yourself harm."

"Where did you get them?" Harry asked.

"From my mother some years ago," Snape replied. "Get up on the table."

"What?" Harry whispered. Severus pointed to the table. Harry slid his backside up on the wood, and folded his legs up off the ground. Could the fancy get up his trouser legs?

"Stay right here, and keep still," Snape warned. Harry nodded. 

"So, what was your mother like?" Harry wondered.

"She was the best and fairest creature to have tread upon this planet," Severus answered. Harry gaped at him. He’d never heard Snape talk about another living soul in such a reverent fashion.

"She was beautiful?" Harry asked.

"I thought so, yes, but I said fair, not beautiful. By most standards she could not be considered beautiful. She was well-read and intelligent, and possessed of a loving and forgiving nature."

"She was pretty on the inside, is that what you’re saying?"

"Mr. Potter, I do hope by the time you’re an adult, you will have learned to judge the fairer sex not by their exterior but by their interior."

Harry bristled hotly with shame. "I don’t judge women by their looks, if that’s what you’re implying."

"Of course you don’t," Severus challenged sarcastically. "I understand it’s hard to resist temptation when it practically lies down in your lap and begs to be petted, but you could be more....you could be more....impervious to her advances, couldn’t you, Potter? You were practically purring."

Harry gave him a very blank, confused look.

"Nevermind," Severus frowned. "She is the one I must hold accountable. You’re not the one to blame. Such foolishness can be forgiven in a child. We all begin by judging everyone by their exterior. I’m merely saying I hope you grow past that by the time you start considering marriage."

"That’s not going to be for some time," Harry blushed.

"There is a God after all," Snape quipped.

"Besides, you’re married."

"Yes, I am. But not for looks, I assure you, nor she either. But we’re not talking about me, Mr. Potter. We are talking about you and how you conduct yourself in the face of---"

"In the face of what?"

"How do you ever expect to be able to resist the temptations Voldemort will test you with if you can’t even keep yourself from letting someone paw at you like that? In public? In front of everyone!" Snape growled. He was working on another apoplectic fit, and stopped himself just in time. A light went off in Harry’s head. This was about Volkova, about this afternoon in the study room. Snape didn’t want Volkova touching Harry. He had to think about this for a minute or two. What part of the equation of Potter plus Volkova was getting so deep under Severus’s skin?

"Why did your mother give you the rapiers?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"In the hopes I would learn correctly to use them."

"Where did they come from?"

"A skilled blacksmith," Snape avoided the question. "Will you be still? I’m terribly busy at the moment."

Snape got up on the other side of the table from Harry, and took out his wand. He aimed it at the floor, and a cloud of greenish gas emitted from the tip. The gas pooled around the floor, covering the stones in a layer a foot thick. Harry gasped as he leapt to his feet, rocking the table violently.

"What the hell is that!?" Harry shouted, pointed over to the side of the room. A small figure about the size of a Cornish Pixie was waving its way through the gaseous fog, coughing and sneezing. Severus darted off the table. The little figure about ten inches tall raced frantically for the door. 

"Oh no you don’t!" Snape hollered, shooting sparks that lit the figure in ill-colored light. Harry could make out small skinny legs and arms, and a knobby head with two horns. It might have had green skin. The door knob was turning even before the little figure reached the exit. It gave a high-pitched scream of terror and fled out into the corridor. "No! Damn! Damn it all! No!" Snape fussed. 

Harry raced after Snape and collided with him at the door. 

"It’s getting away!" Harry said excitedly, trying to urge Snape to follow.

"It’s no use. We’ll never be able to track it out there," Severus sighed, slamming the door. "You aren’t hurt, are you?" he asked, spinning around and taking Harry’s shoulders.

"No," Harry laughed. "Doesn’t look dangerous."

"This is serious, Mr. Potter," Snape muttered. "I want you to go straight to Headmaster Dumbledore and tell him...what am I saying? No. I can’t send you out there. What if you get bitten? You mustn’t go in the hallway until I know that thing is gone."

"What does a roving fancy do?" Harry asked. 

Snape opened the door again and peered cautiously outside. Harry tried to look over his shoulder but couldn’t manage to get enough purchase to jump up without actually clinging to Snape’s back, something he was sure the Potions Master wasn’t going to allow. He heard a noise behind them and turned around. Snape turned with him.

"Mr. Potter, you are to stay here until I return. What is it?"

"I’m sure I just saw another one," Harry replied, squinting into the dissipating fog on the floor.

Snape swore under his breath. He picked Harry around the waist and hauled him over to the table. Harry would have never guessed Severus was that strong. It was so surprising to have someone grab him by the waist, let alone carry him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had carried him at all, except for Hagrid, who carried him like a duffel bag full of squirrels. Just as quickly as he had picked Harry up, Snape put him down on the table with a harsh thump. Severus closed the rapier box and sent it flying to the ceiling, where it stuck. He scrabbled up on the table beside Harry, folding up his legs in an identical fashion.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked. 

"Where did you see it?" Severus asked, pointing his wand at the ground again. He increased the thickness of the spelled fog. Slowly, as the cloud tightened together, it was easy to make out several small, man-like forms moving towards the table. 

"It’s time you told me what’s so bad about a roving fancy," Harry said quietly, trying not to panic. 

"Oh, they’re not dangerous, Potter. They bite you, and you go insane."

"That’s bad," Harry nodded. "Can they climb?"

"Climb?"

Harry pointed to the ceiling.

"It’s not safe. What if the spell gives way? Stay on the table. I’m going for help. See if you can count how many there are," Snape said. He bolted off the table, and out the door. Biting back memories of Gilderoy Lockhart’s pixie incident, Harry started to count the tiny figures in the fog. They wanted to follow Severus but were confused in the cloud. 

Harry was up to thirteen when the door opened again. A wave of water flooded the floor this time, followed by a spell that caused the water to freeze. Squeaky screaming filled the air from all corners as little green figures appeared for a second before poofing out of existence in a domino effect around the room.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked as he and Professor Snape entered the room, carefully stepping over the ice. 

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Did you get them all? I counted at least thirteen of them."

"Except the one that was in the hallway," Severus said. Dumbledore made the ice vanish with a quick swish of his wand. "Headmaster, we have to put out a search at once."

"Severus," Dumbledore chided, pulling Harry to the floor. Severus used his wand and landed the furniture with a wall-shaking thump. He caught the rapiers with his free hand, and cradled them close. "They’re roving fancies," Dumbledore laughed.

"Their bites cause madness," Snape protested.

"Madness? They cause a loss of self-control and the urge to do wild things. I’d hardly call that madness. I myself have survived attacks by roving fancies not once but twice," the Headmaster said.

"I rest my case," Snape retorted. He put down the rapiers, and tugged Harry off the table. He straightened Harry’s cloak and dusted off his shoulders. "I could have been injured. The boy could have been injured. What if the fancy gets into the dorms?"

"It might do you good to lose control every now and again, and do some wild things, Severus," Dumbledore grinned. "The boy is fine. You’re fine."

"The boy is going to go now," Harry said, smiling a bit. 

"Good night, Harry," Dumbledore said, patting him on the arm. 

"Whatever you do, make haste in that corridor," Snape cautioned. Harry nodded, closing the door behind himself. He waited long enough to hear Severus speaking to Dumbledore. "That woman did this, Albus. You know she did."

"You don’t have any proof of that, Severus. I want you to make nice with Professor Volkova. We are lucky to have her."

"My gut instinct is against her, Albus. She’s mad I’ve revealed her past, and she’s going to get me, exact her revenge for it."

"You know, at the risk of offending your gut instincts, I might suggest that the roving fancy got in here on its own, and merely multiplied over time. They’re attracted to repressed people, Severus, and of all the people I know, it’s neck and neck between you and Minerva for that particular award."

"Fourteen roving fancies don’t appear on their own," Snape howled. Harry decided then that he’d better get going. He headed straight to the library for a book on roving fancies.


	13. The Marshmallow Trick

Harry found Ron right inside the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor Tower when he arrived. Harry stumbled through, carrying several books. 

"Oh Merlin. It’s contagious," Ron laughed. Hermione was sitting on the divan, surrounded by books. Ginny was seated on a nearby chair, her lap filled as well. The girls were conversing among themselves.

"Could she have been pulling your leg?" Ginny asked Hermione. 

"I’m not sure. First I need to find out the original source of the rumor about her other school."

"But let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. I mean, if she’s willing to talk to McGonagall about letting us wear trousers, I don’t care who she’s slept with," Ginny mused. 

"Oh don’t you?" Hermione teased her. Ginny’s eyes flared for a moment, but both the girls went surprisingly quiet when Harry and Ron approached. Harry sat down on Hermione’s right, scooted her books over, and opened one of his own. Ron sat down on her left side and opened one of the tomes Harry had handed him. It was then he noticed the pile of books Hermione was reading.

"Why are you researching the Deusredeti?" Ron asked impatiently. "Trying to find more ways to suck up to Volkova, eh? Have you learned anything interesting so far?"

"Depends on what you mean by interesting," Hermione replied. "Why are you two reading about...." She cocked her head to the side and read the binding of the tome he was holding. "Roving fancies?"

"Professor Snape and I were nearly attacked by a pack of them," Harry answered.

"You were what? When?" Ginny asked. Ron and Hermione echoed her surprise.

"He was working in the Potions classroom with his back to the door. He didn’t see who, but I think he suspects Volkova slipped them inside. I was wandering around and popped in on him. I’ve never seen him that nervous, and I wanted to find out what they were, so I know how to get rid of them next time."

"You sound sure there will be a next time," Hermione decided.

"No, I want to be prepared is all," Harry assured her. 

"They’re invisible, Harry. How do you know you both weren’t imagining things?" Hermione asked.

"Snape spelled a green fog over the floor, and you could see them moving around."

"What did they look like?" Ron wanted to know. Before Harry could answer, Hermione butted in.

"Nonsense. They’re only visible right before they bite," she said. 

"Did you get bitten?" Ron asked excitedly.

"No. Snape put me up on a table. He and Dumbledore froze water on the floor, and that made the fancies visible right before they popped out of existence."

"That’s because they’re vulnerable to the cold," Hermione said. 

"Snape suspects Volkova put the fancies in there?" Ron asked. 

"Why would Professor Volkova slip roving fancies into Snape’s classroom?" Hermione asked.

"In case it slipped your notice, Hermione, those two don’t exactly get along," Ron said, grinning.

"Wonder what’s the matter between them," she murmured, turning back to her own book.

"I’ll bet he’s the one who started the rumors about Volkova," Ginny put in. 

"I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how he takes to the people who get the Dark Arts position," Hermione pointed out. "He’s got a jealous streak, that one." Hermione yelped when Harry poked her leg. "What was that for?" she demanded.

"I’m getting in touch with my inner Slytherin," Harry replied. "Snape is trying to change his stripes. You don’t have to like him, but you could go easy on him."

Hermione raised her book and bashed Harry on the side of the head. Lucky for him, it was a thin book.

"Ow!"

"What do you know? I have an inner Slytherin too," Hermione muttered, going back to her reading. "He’s not changing his stripes. He’s molting into a larger snake."

"How easy is it to catch a roving fancy?" Ron asked as Harry continued to rub the side of his head.

"Not easy at all," Hermione replied. "According to one of the books I read, you have to lie down in an open pasture at twilight and think wild thoughts. They are attracted to the magnetic resonance that wild thoughts put off, apparently."

"Rubbish," Ron laughed.

"Professor Dumbledore said they’re attracted to repressed people," Harry said. They looked at Hermione simultaneously, and Ron laughed again.

"So all we have to do is stake Hermione out in an open pasture, and we’ll get all the roving fancies we want," Weasley laughed. Ginny and Harry chuckled, but quickly bit back their laughter when Hermione flared up angrily.

"Oh! I’m repressed, am I?"

"Now, Hermione, he’s teasing you. Learn to take a joke," Harry cautioned.

"Don’t you tell me how to take a joke!"

"Hermione," Ron whispered. "Calm down."

"That’s it. Leave," she told them, jumping off the couch and pointing away.

"What? It’s the Common Room. You can’t make us leave," Ron replied.

"Ginny and I were studying here first. You are interrupting with your puerile, juvenile nonsense. Now go, or I’m going to get Professor McGonagall."

"You leave her out of this," Ron howled back, jumping to his feet as well.

"We’re going," Harry said, tugging Ron by the arm.

"We are not," Ron protested. Harry continued to pull. Ron broke free and went back to square off with Hermione. Ginny collected her things and crept away snickering. Harry plodded up the stairs to the dorm room, and tossed himself on his bed, dropping his bag beside it. After kicking off his shoes and putting his glasses aside, Harry buried his face in his pillow. A small nap would be terrific. Let Hermione and Ron duke it out a couple minutes, and they would get over being angry. There was no point to standing there in the middle of it. He would probably get whacked with another book. 

Harry jumped awake when he felt a hand touch his back. Although he’d felt like he’d slept no longer than a minute or two, it was already dark outside. He blinked and tried to gather his bearings.

"Harry," Ron prodded him. "Harry?"

"What?" Harry rolled over and searched for his glasses. They weren’t on the table where he left them.

"Come on," Ron urged, taking him by the arm. Harry gave up on his glasses and followed along, down into the now-empty Common Room.

"You didn’t get my message, did you?" Remus Lupin asked from the fireplace, smiling gently. Harry sat on the floor and rubbed his eyes. "I wanted to see you before I left. I’m sorry I woke you."

"Where are you going?" Harry worried.

"Order business. I should be back in two or three months."

"Where are you going?" Harry fretted.

"Can’t tell you that, lad. But I’ll write to you as often as I can. A letter a week. Will that suit you?"

"Oh yes," Harry nodded. Lupin extended a hand forward, but Harry was quicker. He dove into the fireplace, anticipating a big hug. 

Harry heard a scream behind him. Someone threw their arms around his chest and yanked on him as he went to hug Lupin. For several seconds, Harry went through stages of being dimly asleep, being jolted by the quick arms and panicked scream, and then being consumed by searing pain before unconsciousness claimed him.


	14. Singed Around the Edges

"Harry?"

Potter jumped up in bed with a bellow. 

"Shh. There now, child. You’ll wake the whole castle," Madam Pomfrey replied, continuing to smooth a sticky substance on his face. On the bed across from Harry, Ron was extending his forearms to Severus Snape, who was rubbing a similar substance on them. Ron stopped cringing away from Snape long enough to look over at Harry.

"Minerva! He’s awake!" Snape called. McGonagall came tearing around the corner of the screen, her arms filled with the roving fancy textbooks. Harry could feel every detail of Madam Pomfrey’s fingertips as she rubbed his brow ridge and forehead.

"Where’s Lupin?" Harry asked softly. Snape perked up and stared at Harry over one shoulder. 

"Hush. Hold still," Pomfrey replied, touching his mouth. She dabbed the clear substance along his lips, and picked up his left hand. "Rub that in slowly. Then you have to keep your mouth shut for five minutes or so. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded, trying not to notice that his left hand was red and throbbing angrily. McGonagall dropped the books on the bed beside Ron, and rang her hands together nervously.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked Harry, leaning closer. "Were you bitten? Have you examined him for bite marks?" she questioned Madam Pomfrey.

"I told you we needed to keep him more secure," Snape was muttering as he folded strips of cloth around Ron’s arms. "You don’t believe the boy intended to throw himself into the fireplace, do you? He wasn’t bitten this evening."

"But that fancy is loose in the school," McGonagall fretted. 

"I warned the Headmaster but he wouldn’t listen to me," Snape growled. 

"If you can’t do anything more constructive than snap at me, you can go back to your dungeon," McGonagall growled back at Snape. It looked as if she were considering giving him a quick kick with her sharp-toed shoes, but decided against it. 

"I’m here to assist Madam Pomfrey," Severus said. 

"If you’ve finished with Mr. Weasley, come help me with Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said. Snape stood up, gave McGonagall an arched brow for good measure, and sat down beside Harry. As Poppy rubbed the burn potion on Harry’s right arm, Severus tended to the left. "He’ll be fine, Minerva. Not to worry. I’ll wager the burns you got from that Hungarian Horntail hurt worse, didn’t they?"

"You dreamed you had a message through the Floo from Lupin?" Snape murmured. "Don’t talk. Nod yes or shake no."

Harry nodded yes. With Snape, it was business as usual. At least he wasn’t talking to Harry in that voice Pomfrey could sometimes use, that plural ‘we’ meaning singular ‘you’ voice. 

"You’re nothing more than singed around the edges is all, and you’ve got Mr. Weasley to thank for pulling you back like he did," Pomfrey said, her voice rising happily. Harry smiled at Ron, and Weasley smiled back very faintly, but the worry was clear in his eyes.

"Your skin will be tight for a few hours. You should move as little as possible. Your eyebrows should grow back shortly. Your hair has never looked better," Snape decided. "Perhaps we should light you afire more often." Harry put a tentative hand upwards, and Snape pulled it back down. "You should move as little as possible. Which word in that sentence puzzles you, Potter?"

"Let them rest," McGonagall said. "A word outside, if you please," she added. Pomfrey helped Harry back into bed, dimming the lamp beside him. Ron lay down on his side and stared at Harry in the dark as the adults moved further away into the office outside the hospital ward.

"Thanks," Harry whispered, trying to be casual although he was cringing with embarrassment.

"Welcome," Ron replied. His voice was shaking. Harry felt his throat catch, and he swallowed.

"The truth is, I was dreaming about marshmallows," Harry whispered. Ron’s resulting laughter was choked with tears. Harry’s chest pulled tight. "Ron, it’s all right."

"No it’s not all right. You’re not supposed to move," Ron sniffed loudly. 

"Can you hear what they’re saying?" Harry asked. Ron stayed quiet for a few seconds.

"Snape wants to put a shielding charm on you. McGonagall said that it would take too much strength to keep it up for very long. Snape said it was only a matter of time before Voldemort used Lupin as a lure for you, now that he’s done away with Black," Ron reported. "McGonagall is muttering at him. Snape’s not answering. McGonagall’s muttering some more. What are you doing?" Ron’s voice rose in alarm as Harry sat up and fumbled for shoes or slippers. Giving up, he hurried towards the end of the ward. 

"Lupin!" Harry blurted.

"Harry!" Ron called, jumping out of bed as well. The door whipped open before Harry reached the handle, which was fortuitous, because he wasn’t sure he could find it in the dark without his glasses on. Snape peered down at him.

"What?"

"Where’s Lupin?" Harry asked anxiously.

"It’s four in the morning, Potter. Go to sleep."

"I want to know where Remus is," Harry tensed.

"I don’t know where he is. Go back to bed."

McGonagall opened the door wider, and took Harry’s arm.

"Remus was in Hogsmeade last night, wasn’t he?"

"Yes."

"We’ll owl him at once," she soothed. "And then you will go to sleep until we receive his reply."

Harry agreed with a nod. He sent Hedwig off and returned to bed. He waited through breakfast, and still no reply. He was sitting in the hospital ward with Ron, getting the bandages removed before his first class. Hedwig flew in, and nearly clobbered him with the reply from Lupin. Remus was in London visiting Olivander. He would return by nightfall, and would come directly to Hogwarts instead of going to Hogsmeade. Finally able to relax, Harry went off to Transfigurations, and proceeded to fall asleep on his desk. 

 


	15. Such A Shining Example

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a teeny bit of slashiness

"So, Potter," Draco drawled as he wormed his way next to Harry in the corridor outside of Transfigurations. "You want to do your human marshmallow trick again so we can all watch this time?"

Harry blinked at Draco and yawned. He wanted to scratch his eyebrows, because they were itching like crazy, but didn’t want to give Draco the satisfaction of watching him squirm. Leave it to Draco to mess up the nicest nap-haze Harry had had in weeks. 

"Unless you want a fat lip, Malfoy, you’d better move along," Ron warned, coming quickly to Harry’s defense.

"What are you, his body guard?" Draco sneered.

"No, but I am," Hermione growled from Harry’s other side.

"You don’t scare me," Malfoy snorted.

"I’d turn you into a newt, except I don’t want to offend newts everywhere. But you do make a fabulous ferret," Hermione added, giving a wicked grin. Malfoy gave Hermione the finger, and calmly strode off in the direction of the boys restroom. She shook her head at him.

"Someone ought to splinch him," Ron commented.

"And forget to put back a few parts," Hermione agreed. "Ready for next class?" she asked. Harry pointed towards the restroom. "Oh. Want me to come in and protect you from Malfoy?"

"No," Harry fussed. He pushed at his hair for the two hundredth time that morning. His scalp was itching nearly as badly as his brows were. Pomfrey had warned him not to scratch if he could help it, but it was like having sweat on top of his skin or things moving underneath.

"Malfoy might be lying in wait," she said.

"Herm, no," Harry replied. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and indicated she would wait right there by pointing a certain spot on the floor. Ron followed Harry inside, and collided with him when Potter stopped in his tracks just out of range of the swinging door.

"I’m trying to build a future here. That part of my life was years ago, Professor Snape, and I don’t appreciate having my past exhumed."

What was Professor Volkova doing in here?

"My friend was very thorough. You went through a lot of effort to hide your accomplishments, didn’t you? New country. New language. New occupation. If my contact wasn’t fluent in sixteen languages, I’d’ve never known. Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" Snape’s acidic voice cut through the room. Harry blinked at them as they stood talking in front of joined sinks. Volkova was washing her hands.

"Thorough?" she huffed. "He was positively unscrupulous."

"There are doors on the cubicles," Severus pointed out. "She’s trying to get a rise out of me by following me in here, Potter. Don’t encourage her by giving her the reaction she wanted from me."

"I was talking to you, and you rudely walked away. I don’t appreciate being ignored. A small thing like a sign that says ‘boys’ isn’t going to put me off," Volkova replied to Snape’s barb. Harry continued to blink at her, his mouth open. "Perhaps we should continue this outside," she suggested to Snape.

"There’s nothing to continue," Snape barked back.

"Have you talked to McGonagall and Dumbledore?"

"Of course I have."

"I assure you that all my work experience is listed on my resume and Curriculum Vitae."

"Yes. McGonagall and Dumbledore already knew you had experience. They didn’t realize you’d been decorated for thirty six kills though!"

"You flatter me. I was only decorated for thirty five."

"Much to my surprise, Dumbledore considered the experience an asset to your job here."

"And why not? I have had practical experience in my field."

"One can have practical experience in the Dark Arts without succumbing to them," Snape growled.

"Of which you are such a shining example," Volkova cut. 

"Unlike you, I make a clear distinction between being a vampire researcher and a vampire killer."

"I’ll bet you do," she retorted, her eyes glittering wickedly. "Would it bother you to know I found your defense techniques rather useful? They saved me more than once."

"I take rather a dim view of slaughtering any magical creature, and I think you’ll find the Headmaster has a very similar attitude. Should you find yourself with the urge to raise your kill percentage, you will refrain, or you will suffer my wrath."

"Given there is slim chance I will ever encounter a vampire here, I’d say you’re alarmed over nothing, Severus. Unless there’s something you need to say to me?"

"What I need to say to you doesn’t bear utterance in front of our students. Have a good day, Ms. Volkova, somewhere far from my sight."

Snape pushed his way between Harry and Ron on the way out, and Volkova watched him go, her smile glittering with satisfaction. Once Snape was gone, however, she seemed to snap out of her mood. She faced Harry and Ron, and her expression softened with innocent concern.

"Sorry for the intrusion. The house elves are to be commended. The floors are spotless in here."

On light steps, Volkova exited the room, but not without sliding a hand briefly over Harry’s arm. Ron nudged Harry, and he finally moved.

"So, Volkova’s a pervert AND a vampire killer," Weasley said, dodging into the stall next to his friend. "Wait till we tell Hermione about that."

When Harry emerged from the cubicle to wash his hands, he found Malfoy waiting at the sinks, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry nonchalantly brushed through them to reach the soap and water.

"You’re lucky Professor Snape has had experience with burn victims," Malfoy told him flatly. "If he hadn’t been on hand, you’d’ve been scarred for life."

"What a tragedy that would be," Harry muttered.

"He should have left you the way you were. It could only have improved your face," Malfoy grinned. Harry’s lightning scar was annoyed but not throbbing, so he concluded Malfoy wanted a little chit-chat and not a physical confrontation. "Why were you afraid to use the restroom in front of Professor Volkova? I mean, she did use to teach at an all-boys school. She’s accustomed to seeing them in various states of undress. Does the idea of her seeing you starkers bother you and your boyfriend Weasley?" Malfoy taunted.

Ron emerged from his cubicle, straightening his robe. He followed Harry’s path to the sink.

"Are you and I still going out?" Harry asked Ron, pretending confusion.

"No. We broke up months ago," Ron replied.

"It’s all about the sex now, isn’t it?" Harry asked.

"You do look smashing in fishnets," Ron told him. 

"Do I really?" Harry grinned.

"But it’s your Quidditch uniform I go for," Ron nodded. 

"You swing both ways, Potter?" Malfoy cackled. Clearly he had missed the heavy layer of sarcasm that Ron and Harry had been applying to their words. "You’re a double agent? Or are you still in that sticky experimentation phase? Don’t think no one’s noticed how Volkova’s always got her hands all over you in Dark Arts, and in the halls, and in the study room, and in the dining hall."

This was jealousy, Harry suddenly understood. He tilted his head to one side, and gave Malfoy a knowing smile. Malfoy had a crush on Volkova? Somehow, Harry could see them together. They might be tailor-made for each other even. Both were icy blonds with a thirst for power.

"Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did with my Transfiguration notes. When you graffiti my things in the future, Malfoy, at least do spell the words correctly," Harry mocked. 

"There are two l’s in fellatio," Ron smiled. "It took us several days to figure out what you meant."

"If Hermione hadn’t been on the other side of the table, we’d’ve never understood," Harry interjected. 

"The stick figures were a big help," Ron put in.

"Yes, but obviously not based on actual experience," Harry said, giving Draco a blunt smile.

"For the record, Malfoy, I prefer to top," Ron added, putting his arm around Harry’s waist and escorting him out of the room. Crabbe and Goyle watched Ron and Harry, and then waited to see how Draco would react. Malfoy slammed angrily out into the hallway, walking on ahead of Ron and Harry towards their next class. Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind, glowering at Harry. 

"I thought you’d gone for a bloody swim!" Hermione exclaimed. "Are you done yet? We’re going to be late."

"It’s Potions next," Ron reminded her. "No point in rushing in there."

"Yeah. Professor Snape’s not happy unless he can dock me a couple points here and there once a week. I’d be depriving him of one of the few joys in his life if I showed up on time every day," Harry said.

A warm hand cupped the back of his neck as Hermione and Ron withdrew in alarm. Harry quickly pulled his bag in front of his body, because his cock was reacting favorably to the restraining grip. Except Harry knew this wasn’t Volkova, because there was no sweet smell and soft skin. These were the commanding talons of a dangerous bird of prey, definitely a man’s grip. Oh bother. How embarrassing!

"Mr. Potter. I’m thrilled you’re concerned about my happiness, but it would please me much more if you showed more than a passing interest in your academic future. Your OWL’s are behind you, but your NEWT’s are ahead. I’d like to go to my death knowing I managed to grind some knowledge into that thick skull of yours, at least the ability to tell time."

"Yes, sir," Harry quickly intoned. The hand remained on his scruff, nails digging in. Snape was escorting him to the side of the corridor, keeping him a few feet behind Ron and Hermione, who kept looking back in worry.

"What you heard between myself and Professor Volkova, I must ask you not to repeat," Snape whispered in Harry’s ear.

"Yes, sir." Harry bit his mouth, feeling tickles of heat in his face and down his spine.

"Especially the part of suffering my wrath. It was childish of me."

"Yes, sir."

"Contrary to what Ms. Volkova might think, her skills as a vampire hunter are a cause for great alarm."

"Only if she runs into your wife," Harry tested in a quick whisper. Severus pushed him against the wall and cornered him with an arm on either side. Students in the hallway stopped and stared, and Hermione had to hold Ron to keep him from rushing back over.

"Foolish boy. That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days," Severus whispered back. Harry steeled himself, and lifted his chin defiantly at Snape. The Potions Master was smiling down at him, his dark eyes narrowed to slits. 

"Too late," Harry murmured.

"Would you like a detention, Mr. Potter? Perhaps I can find a way to keep your mouth so occupied it won’t have time to get you in trouble," Snape suggested. Harry shivered. The mental image of being on his hands and knees in front of Snape went straight to Harry’s groin. If Snape said one more deep, sibilant word this close to him, Harry was going to need to change his clothes. Harry licked his mouth involuntarily, and Severus raised a brow at him. Was he enjoying this tension as much as Harry was, Potter wondered? Or perhaps he was reading Harry’s mind? Oh dear. "Well, boy? Cat got your tongue? If not a detention, how about a nice mockingbird spell while I recite Gray’s Anatomy?" Snape tested.

"No, thank you, sir," Harry whispered. 

"Take yourself to class, Mr. Potter. One peep out of you in Potions, and I’ll vox reflecto you so fast it will make your head spin. Is that clear?"

Harry swallowed and nodded, trying to look humble as possible while Snape glowered down at him.

"I see your brows grew back," Severus murmured, his nose mere inches from Harry’s. Potter puzzled over the non sequitur and waited. "Such remarkable regenerative powers."

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"It’s the phoenix tears, you know? Once they’re in your blood, they never disappear. No wonder our dear Volkova put you at the top of her list," Snape continued. 

"Top of what list?" Harry stammered. 

"Your tie is crooked, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape announced loudly. He released Harry, pushing him with a stumble towards the Potions classroom. Harry sprinted to his chair and sat down, heaving for breath and beet-red. Ron patted Harry sympathetically, and aimed deadly stares at Snape all through class.


	16. Suit and Ties

"Ah. Right on time," Lupin chimed happily as Harry and Ron appeared around the corner. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah. Hedwig clobbered me with it," Harry said.

"Your brows have grown back already," Lupin asked, rubbing his thumb under Harry’s glass frames. "I’m glad you’re all right. I’d hate to shove off with you being under the weather."

"Shove off?"

"I’m about to go on a mission. Nothing to worry about. We can discuss it later," Remus said as Harry frowned and had a terrible feeling of déjà vù. "It’s nothing, Harry. I’ll be gone a couple months. Back before December."

"Months," Harry complained. "Where are you going? What are you going to be doing?"

"Nothing dangerous," Lupin laughed, and Harry could feel in his bones that Remus was lying to him. "All I can say is it’s business, and hush," Remus added. 

"Oh, all right," Harry said, staring down.

"Where’s Tall, Dark, and Snapish?" Ron asked. 

"Haven’t seen him," Lupin said. "It’s not like him to be late though. You tell him 7 pm and he’ll be there at 6:59 with change to spare."

"You could set a clock by him," Ron agreed. 

"Should we go on in?" Harry motioned to the Potions classroom.

"I knocked. No one’s home," Lupin informed them. 

"We could just go in," Ron said.

"Um, no," Lupin advised. "Not after the roving fancy incident. Dumbledore told me all about that. What if Snape’s right, and Volkova is out to get him?"

"She could be," Harry agreed.

"She’s probably not the only one," Ron muttered. 

"Chances are, she’s moved up the food chain from roving fancies," Lupin chuckled. Harry leaned against the wall next to Remus as Ron wandered up and down the darkening corridor. "Don’t worry, Harry. It’s a reconnaissance mission. It’s nothing."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said. "People keep dying around me. Maybe you’re safer the further away you get," Harry moped. Lupin ruffled the back of his head.

"Don’t talk that way," he scolded tenderly. 

"My parents, Sirius, Cedric. Loads of others. I’m the Typhoid Mary of the wizarding world. Yeah. You would take a long holiday if you were smart."

"Harry, that’s enough," Lupin said. "Now, to practical matters. I’ve put up wards around the house in Hogsmeade. No one will be able to get in but you. If you get the chance, you might try and put some furniture in your room there. Go shopping, will ya?"

"Do you have enough Wolf’s Bane?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Severus brewed me plenty of flasks to take along."

"Did you pack warm socks?"

"Yes."

"Emergency portkey?"

"Emergency what?" Remus’s eyes went wide.

"I was thinking we could work on it. Something you could carry, something ordinary and casual, but it could be an emergency portkey if you needed one."

Lupin drew a pocket watch from his cloak.

"Where is that man?" he mumbled. Ron skulked back to them as Lupin put his watch away.

"Weird shadows in this place at night," Ron commented. 

The hair on Harry’s neck stood up. On the floor, he saw the distinct shadow of a human shape eclipsing the torchlight from the other hallway. He stared upwards and saw nothing. When he ran to the place on the floor, the shadow was gone.

"What is it?" Ron asked, immediately at his side. Although Harry was supposed to come alone, Ron had insisted on accompanying Harry, in case Snape was still feeling in a peevish mood. Harry wouldn’t be at all surprised if after the incident in the hallway, Snape refused to teach him fencing at all. He was fully prepared to beg if he had to though.

"Dunno. Weird shadows, like you said," Harry replied. 

"It’s not like Severus to be late," Lupin said, collecting himself. "You two wait right here, and I’ll toddle around for a look."

"He could be in the lavatory," Harry said, a nervous, itchy, twitchy feeling in his stomach. The overlay of shadows on the floor moved again, and Snape came around the corner. He was carrying the oblong box that Harry knew contained the rapiers. A white box, one foot square, was hovering inches behind him at shoulder level. In his other hand, he had his wand drawn.

"I was going to send a search party," Remus complained. Snape spared him an annoyed retort.

"Lost something, have you?" 

"Where have you been?" Lupin asked.

"I was delayed. Did anyone come through here?"

"We saw no one," Ron said.

"There was a weird shadow on the floor, but it was only the light," Harry added.

"Shadows, Mr. Potter, are the absence of light. Which direction?" he asked. Harry pointed. Severus handed him the oblong box and walked away with the white one still following him. He proceeded carefully to his end of the corridor, looked both ways, frowned, and turned around. The white box got out of his way as he slowly prowled back to Lupin and the boys. 

"Were you being followed?" Lupin asked. Snape flicked his wand at the classroom door.

"Yes, I’m sure of it," he said, reaching for the knob. Harry quickly stopped his hand. "What is the matter, Mr. Potter?"

"Don’t touch it," Harry insisted.

"Why not?" Snape asked.

"I don’t know. But you shouldn’t," Harry said.

"Why not?" Snape asked again. Lupin watched Harry, not saying a word.

"I have a bad feeling." Harry couldn’t believe the words even as he said them. Ron snickered.

"Do you have anything more firm than that to go on?" Snape asked. 

"Expelliarmus," Harry said, putting his hand on Snape’s wrist and moving his wand and hand together with his own hand. Lupin and Ron both were shocked by the action. Snape was a bit pale himself. The door knob turned bright red, and began to smoke. All four men stepped back a foot, and Snape continued to stare at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. It was a look that tested Harry’s depths. What had he done this time?

"I trust this is not your normal ward," Lupin quipped.

Snape stopped staring at Harry and replied, "No reason to panic."

The knob began to sizzle and hiss. The pungent smell of burnt metal filled the corridor.

"Ew. That’s horrible," Ron grimaced. Harry bent down to his knees, and got as close as he could while holding his sleeve over his nose. "It’s covered with acid of some sort," Ron added.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Harry replied. 

"You probably shouldn’t stick your face in it," Ron said. 

"Gentlemen," Snape said calmly as Ron tugged Harry to his feet. "A change of scene is in order. I’ll meet you in the Astronomy Tower in ten minutes."

He pulled the white box out of the air and handed it to Lupin.

"What’s this?" Remus asked.

"Have Harry put this on. Size it to fit him properly."

***

"Fess up, Professor," Ron grinned at Lupin. Remus leaned his shoulder against the wall and glanced over at Ron. Though not technically still their professor, he was sure the boys continued to address him as such out of a sense of respect, and he didn’t bother to correct them.

"Are you dressed yet?" Lupin asked.

"Not yet," Harry replied. "It’s too tight in some places and too loose in others. I’m having trouble getting it on."

"Do the best you can, and I’ll size it from there. Hurry up."

"You wouldn’t let us touch the knob," Ron pointed out.

"I didn’t do it, Ron," Remus muttered.

"Was it basilisk blood or dragon blood?" Weasley persisted. Harry tapped him on the arm.

"He didn’t do it," Harry said.

"You did it?"Ron asked Harry.

"No."

"How do you know he didn’t do it?" Ron asked. Remus waited for the answer too.

"Because, he’d be biting the hand that feeds him. You don’t injure the dominant hand of the Potions Master who gives you a critical brew. Am I correct, sir?"

"Quite correct," Lupin said. "Thank you for seeing the obvious. Harry, there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s very important."

"What?"

"What you did back there?"

"What?"

"You can’t go around doing that."

"What? The whole ‘bad feeling’ thing? I was following my intuition."

"No. Not that. By all means, follow your intuition."

"What did I do?"

"He’s talking about what you did to Snape," Ron put in.

"What did I do to Snape?" Harry wondered.

"You put your hand on his wand and commanded a spell with his magic and your magic," Lupin said.

"What about it?"

"It’s not done."

"That’s silly," Harry laughed.

"Harry, it’s not silly. You don’t commandeer another wizard’s wand while he’s holding it," Remus chided him. "It’s a terrible social faux pas."

"It’s like kissing your parents on the mouth," Ron laughed.

"No. It’s not like that. It’s just not done, Harry. Bad form."

"It’s like writing your name in the snow using someone else’s cock," Ron laughed. 

"That’s enough," Lupin muttered. "You don’t have to be crass."

"Sorry," Ron giggled. "I’ve never actually seen someone do that. Great wizards have had people expelled for doing that. It’s like saying you’re a more powerful wizard than they are, so you’re showing them how things are done."

"Think Snape will want me expelled?" Harry worried.

"No, he won’t," Lupin assured him. "The only time you can ever use another wizard’s wand while he’s holding it is if you’re the wizard’s occupational superior, or parent, or spouse."

"What?" Harry shrieked. Ron cackled again. "Why didn’t someone tell me this before?"

"It’s never come up," Lupin replied. 

"Nice duds," Ron teased Harry. The white fencing suit he wore was cut with darts and lines for a much more tapered waist and narrow shoulders. There was room in the chest for breasts as well, if Harry weren’t mistaken. He plucked at the tight material as Lupin smiled faintly.

"That lying Slytherin whore’s son."

"What’s wrong?" Harry asked, glancing around. He could hear someone stepping quickly up the stairs, and hoped if it were Snape that he was still out of earshot.

"All those times he told James he destroyed it," Lupin laughed. The steps got closer. Remus took out his wand but didn’t size the fencing suit yet. Severus came up the last step and onto the landing, pocketing what appeared to be a silver-gray rock and two tiny pieces of paper. "Severus, you lying prick."

"What have I done this time?" Snape wanted to know. He stopped when he saw Harry, his expression drifting between sadness and delight. "Ah."

"That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? You’ve had Lily’s suit all this time?" 

Severus didn’t reply. He took out his wand and approached Potter. Harry put a hand to the middle of his chest and took a step back. 

"I grabbed the wrong box. My mistake. No matter. I didn’t lie. I thought I had destroyed it," Snape said quietly. "Unfortunately, this means I torched a very expensive black fencing suit."

"Lying son of a snake," Lupin muttered.

"This suit was a gift from myself to your mother; a gift between friends, nothing more; when she was still Miss Evans and not Mrs. Potter," Snape explained to alleviate Harry’s glazed expression. "Your father would have done away with it out of spite for me."

"Severus---" Lupin tried to say, but Snape cut him off.

"He made her stop dueling with me because he couldn’t bear the idea of her being near me, of her spending any waking moment away from him. The suit was a gift I could not let him destroy. I meant to do that myself." Severus gnashed his teeth at Lupin, no mean task, all things considered. Harry put a hand up between them to stop them from continuing the argument. 

"What did Dumbledore say about the door knob?" Harry asked. Snape’s left eye twitched, and Lupin clenched his fists tightly.

"He gave me a couple of preventative measures to put in the classroom and in my office. If anything else happens, he wants me to report to him right away."

"Thank you for the suit," Harry mumbled. "Can I keep it?"

"If you must. It wasn’t what I meant to give you, and I’m sorry if it upsets you. If it pleases you, you may keep it. Let me size it for you," Severus offered, raising his wand. 

"I’ll do that," Lupin said, intervening. "It’ll give me a chance to make sure you haven’t cursed the material or bleached a Lethefold or something."

"As you wish," Snape murmured, retreating a safe distance away. 

"Not to interrupt, but why are we in the Astronomy Tower?" Ron asked quietly. Snape and Lupin pointed up at the same time.

"No ceiling," they said in unison, then glared at each other.

"Only the walls to have to guard," Snape added. 

"Wait," Harry said, stepping back. "It’s tickling me," he smiled, unbuttoning the top of the suit. He reached around inside and pulled out two long strands of copper colored hair. "Oh," he whispered, holding them up to the dim light of the moon and stars. Snape snatched the strands off the air as the wind pulled them from Harry’s open fingers. The boy looked hypnotized, but he was experiencing vivid memories of putting his small face against hair this color and being rocked to sleep. Snape pushed the strands into an interior pocket of his cloak and avoided Lupin’s disgusted gaze. Remus’s magic seized the material of the fencing suit, distracting Harry momentarily.

"How’s that?" Lupin asked.

"Too loose," he replied. 

"And that?"

"Too tight."

"Hold still and try not to squirm," Lupin sighed. 

"You’re tickling me. It’s hard not to squirm," Harry smiled.

"Would you like my help?" Snape offered.

"Yes. You could whip up more light," Remus said haughtily. With a loud crack, torches went up around the perimeter of the tower landing. "Show off. How’s that?"

"Too tight. Feels kinda good though," Harry snickered. Ron snicked in echo.


	17. She Ran Into A Desk

The students were busy standing over hot cauldrons in the Potions classroom. Professor Snape had stepped into the hallway to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore, having given the class a single glance that had clearly stated that if one vial, one jar, one single herb leaf was out of place when he returned, they would all be newts by dinner time. Everyone had wisely chosen to keep their minds on their work, except of course, Draco Malfoy. But considering the fact that if Draco became a newt, Snape would have to answer to Lucius Malfoy, Draco might have had more leeway than anyone else in the room.

"Don’t look now," Hermione whispered, rolling her eyes.

"Potter, could you come help me light the fire under my cauldron? I need more tinder," Draco cooed, much to the delight of the nearby Slytherins.

"Don’t let him bother you," Ron said as Harry needled Draco with an annoyed glare.

"Potter," Malfoy teased. "Come help me."

"You’re going the right way for an inflammare in your undershorts, Draco," Harry warned, sprinkling herbs carefully into the boiling brew in his potion. He stirred the concoction with a wooden spoon, twelve times left, twelve times right. 

"Come on, baby. Light my fire," Draco cackled. Harry ignored him, counting the fibers of holly root as he let them fall into the cauldron. Behind him, Snape returned to the room, leaving the door ajar. He was pocketing a scrolled sheet of parchment tied with a blue ribbon, smiling faintly to himself.

"That’s odd," Ron said. Harry continued to stir, pretending to be engrossed. "Wonder why he’s so cheerful," Ron added. 

"Dumbledore didn’t look too keen when he came to the door," Hermione agreed. "It seemed to me he was here to bawl Snape out."

"He doesn’t look like a man who just had his ass chewed," Ron commented. Snape floated around the room, inspecting cauldrons one by one. He nodded his approval and clapped Neville on the back. Longbottom looked as if he might faint. Hermione’s eyes were glittering with curiosity.

"I saw an intriguing position on the Odd Jobs board," Harry interrupted. 

"Bottom or top?" Ron asked. 

"No, seriously. One of the instructors needs a bogart out of a closet."

"A bogart? That’s all?" Ron scoffed. "Not very exciting work."

"It’s worth twenty points," Harry said. "Might make up for my last Arithmancy quiz. I got 6 out of 10."

"All you have to do is suck up to Volkova and you’ll make up those points," Ron tormented. 

"It’s a whisper," Hermione squeaked, turning pink and squelching a giggle. She looked away from Snape’s sudden glance, and down into her cauldron, putting on a studious frown.

"A what?" Harry asked when Snape moved a distance away. 

"Nothing better than a bogart. We’ve done the bogart thing. No manticores? How about a nice Dementor?" Ron questioned. 

"A whisper. You know," Hermione laughed. Harry looked to Ron for help.

"What’s a whisper?" he asked.

"Remember Mum’s howler?" Ron said. Harry nodded. "A whisper is the opposite of a howler."

"Shouldn’t it be called a whisperer, in that case?" Harry pointed out. 

"It’s a love letter," Hermione smiled. "No wonder he’s so cheerful," she grinned. A poof of smoke rose up from Harry’s cauldron, followed by a foul smell.

"That’s really horrid," Ron whined, covering his nose. 

"Yeah, I’ve done something stupid again, you can bet," Harry said, backing up too. Hermione followed suit. "I don’t get it. I followed the same potion instructions that you did. Yours smells like pine and holly. Mine smells like...ugh."

"Dead, wet, decaying mermaid fins," Ron supplied helpfully.

"Thanks. Unnecessarily graphic though," Harry replied. 

"I’m having a Trelawney moment," Hermione smiled.

"What?"

"Harry, I’m sorry, but your future doesn’t lie in Potions," she quipped. "Poisons, maybe, but not potions. And you’re going to die someday."

"Thanks for the tip," Harry groused. 

"Probably in a messy sticky sort of way," Hermione added.

"Thank you. That’s enough of your Trelawney moment," Harry fussed. Hermione grinned at him.

"What is that smell?" Draco asked, wrinkling up his entire face into a ball as he edged closer to the three Gryffindors. 

"Your socks before the house elves get them," Ron smirked. 

"It’s none of your business, that’s what it is," Hermione said, picking up Harry’s dripping wooden spoon and taking a poke at Malfoy.

"Miss Granger," Snape said behind her. "In your first year of Potions, what did I tell you would happen if I caught a student aiming a dirty potion spoon at another student?"

"You said you’d make the offending student lick out all the cauldrons that day," Draco said, grinning brightly. Harry couldn’t remember having seen Draco so happy.

"Miss Granger?" Severus murmured. "Does your memory serve as well as Mr. Malfoy’s does?"

"You may have said something to that effect, yes, sir," Hermione said miserably.

"Luckily for you, Miss Granger, the deadly effects of this potion on the interior of the human body, coupled with Mr. Potter’s dubious brewing talents, would undoubtedly make such an action homicide on my part. The Headmaster frowns on me killing students more than once a year. The term is young, and I’m saving my kill for later. Therefore, I’d expect you’ll be delighted if I tell you you’ve got a detention every night this week, won’t you, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione mumbled.

"Be in my office at eight sharp. Mr. Potter, how much holly root did you put in here?" Snape asked, standing next to Harry and taking the spoon away from Hermione. 

"I don’t remember," Harry lied, stepping on Snape’s foot in an effort to get closer to his cauldron. "Sorry," he added. Snape glared at him.

"Did you measure exactly twelve strands, Mr. Potter?"

"No. He can’t count that high," Draco whispered from his table. 

"Mr. Malfoy, tend to your own cauldron, please," Snape said. "We are testing our potions in half an hour. Is yours done yet?"

"No, sir. I can’t get the fire started. I asked Potter to help me, but he refused."

The fire under Draco’s cauldron burst into life with a flick of Snape’s wand. Startled, Draco whipped out his wand as he bounced back from the table. 

"Good reflexes, Mr. Malfoy. Get busy on your potion, if you please," Snape said. Draco put away his wand and got to work. Snape moved his own wand over Harry’s cauldron, and the contents vanished. "When a fellow wizard asks you for help, you comply, Mr. Potter."

"He wasn’t having trouble starting his fire," Harry protested with a dark look in Draco’s direction. The catty smile Malfoy was wearing made it pretty clear Harry was telling the truth.

"What house are you in, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"Gryffindor," Harry said proudly.

"What house is Mr. Malfoy in?"

"Slytherin," Harry replied, facing Snape once more. 

"Can you get eggs from a cow, or milk from a chicken, Mr. Potter?"

"Not usually, sir, but I’m sure with enough magic, it would be possible."

"Magic isn’t the only thing you are supposed to learn at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. Fortitude. Attitude. Servitude. Tolerance. You don’t believe you’re only being graded on your assignments, do you?" Snape asked him. Several of the students nearby began looking nervous. 

"No, sir."

"In the future, Mr. Potter, when another wizard asks you for help, you will comply."

"With all due respect, sir, Malfoy was being a prat."

"Malfoy being a prat is beside the point, Mr. Potter. You are also capable of being more than a prat yourself, are you not?"

"I suppose, sir."

"Then you suppose correctly, Mr. Potter. We are none of us angels, are we?"

"No, sir."

"When another wizard asks for your help, you will comply. I don’t care what his house colors are. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Back to your potion. Start from the top, Mr. Potter. Stilla statuo cannot be beyond your means." Snape paused for dramatic effect, staring down into the cauldron. "I hope," he added, walking away.

Harry busied himself, keeping an eye on the cauldron but also on the rest of the class as well. Snape went over the list of ingredients on the board, writing out what each was in English and Latin, and what each one meant to the essence of the potion. Draco was the first student to come forward with a vial. He paced behind Snape at the board, reading what he was writing. Harry could tell he was also trying to slip the letter out of Snape’s pocket. 

"The holly root thickens the mixture but also adds a strengthening agent. When your Stilla statuo is fully matured you should be able to...sorry, sir. It must have fallen out."

"Mr. Malfoy, am I in your light?"

"No, sir. I was giving you back your letter, sir," Draco said. 

"Did you want a look at it?" Snape asked. He handed it to Draco, and Malfoy opened it to find a blank scroll. Disappointed, he gave the scroll back. When Snape’s hand contacted with the parchment, words appeared again. Draco frowned, reaching for it again. "When you let me read your personal correspondence, I will let you read mine," Severus told him, pocketing the scroll inside his cloak this time. "Put your sample on the desk, please, Draco."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, setting his vial carefully on the desktop and going back to his table. Hiding a smile, Harry went back to his potion. More and more students went forward with their vials, including Ron and Hermione. Harry went on stirring and watching the clock. Before long, Snape was done with the board and was wandering the room again. Students with any sense were copying what the Potions Master had written. Harry felt a shadow at his shoulder and looked up.

"How is it coming?" Snape queried.

"It’s murky and foul smelling, like before," Harry reported. He leaned over the cauldron and peered inside. His own reflection shimmered back at him. When the surface became calm, he also saw Professor Volkova’s face above him at an odd angle. Harry dodged back from the table with a squeak, colliding with Snape’s form.

"What did you see?" Snape wanted to know. Harry watched the ceiling, looked down into the cauldron, and watched the ceiling again. 

"Do these fumes cause hallucinations?" he asked.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. Severus knew it. He prodded Harry’s mixture with a clean spoon. 

"Potter, I don’t understand how you can be a good cook and yet so dangerous with potions. Any competent student in your year should be able to make this."

"It’s not on purpose," Harry countered softly, watching the ceiling. Had that stone above him shifted? Harry raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. Snape put a hand on his arm and gazed down into the cauldron.

"Did you put cobwebs in here?"

"Me? No."

Snape was staring at the ceiling with Harry now.

"Mr. Potter, take your bag off your desk."

Harry pulled his book bag down, and the desk jumped to the ceiling, splashing thick liquid everywhere. The stones all shifted around in a circle above Harry’s space– it had been covered with a magic shield or barrier of some sort. Dust and cobwebs filtered to the ground as his table dropped once more. Harry’s foul-smelling brew was falling like rain amid the shrieks and screams of the students. Snape dispersed the noxious potion with a quick cleaning spell. The bell rang, and he smiled to himself when the students who had sought cover under their desks grabbed their bags and bolted for the door.

"Mr. Potter, we’ll try again tonight. You may come with Miss Granger to her detention," Snape said to Harry. He returned to his desk at the front of the room, leaving Ron, Harry and Hermione to stare at the shaking table and the burbling ceiling.

"What was that all about?" Ron wondered. 

"Search me," Harry shrugged.

"Dinner?" Hermione suggested.

"I’d like to change first," Harry said. 

"Newt?" Ron asked.

"Salamander," Harry quipped back.

***

"It’s not fair he gave me a detention," Hermione complained as they made their way from the Gryffindor Tower into the dining hall.

"Hmmm. Smells good in here," Ron said. 

"What are you complaining about?" Harry snarked at Granger.

"It’s not like I wanted to lick out the cauldrons, but honestly, Draco started it," Hermione wailed.

"You got a detention for being careless with dangerous fluids. I got a detention for being too thick to brew a simple potion," Harry told her. "He thinks you’re a know-it-all, but he thinks I’m an idiot. You got off easy. He’s going to recommend me for a brain transplant."

"What is this?" Ron asked, staring at the platters that began to appear.

"Fettuccini. Linguini. Spaghetti," Hermione pointed to each dish as it materialized. 

"Uh oh. Someone’s been futzing with the house elves," Ron sighed.

"Don’t look at me," Hermione retorted. "It’s a nice change though."

"It’s Volkova again," Harry said. "Don’t you get it?"

"It’s Italian food," Ron said, puzzled. "So?"

"Nothing to worry about. Just a little pasta," Hermione said, picking up her spoon. "Mmm. Garlic."

Harry wasn’t so sure it was all an innocent menu rotation. Up at the instructors’ table, Severus Snape was frowning as he picked over his plate. The food obviously didn’t agree with him. He settled for a goblet of red wine and a small piece of cheese from a nearby platter. 

The room got quiet as Professor Volkova came limping into the hall with a gait reminiscent of Mad-Eye Moody in the colder months. She drew more than a few stares from students and instructors alike as she made her way to the staff table. The closer she got to the head of the room, the wider Snape’s smile got. He rose from his seat as she went by behind him, nearly clocking her with his chair. 

"How’s the leg?" he asked. Volkova balanced herself, and hissed at him through a toothy smile.

"Fine, thank you," she retorted.

"Wonder what happened to her," Ron speculated. Hermione and Harry shrugged. 

Snape stepped away from the instructors’ table, chortling happily to himself. He strode through the room carrying his goblet, sipping away slowly. As he went by the Slytherin Table, Draco asked him a question. Snape paused and leaned down to hear what he was saying.

"Not to worry, dear boy. She’ll be all right. She ran into a desk," Severus said. He set his empty goblet on the table and practically danced on light steps out of the room. As his wicked chuckle echoed into the heights of the main hall, Harry felt a smile coming onto his own face. 

"You know, I’m not so sure I want to be locked in his office with him tonight," Hermione said, shivering.

"The only thing scarier than an angry Snape is a happy Snape," Ron said.

"No offense, Harry, but I’m glad you’ve got detention with me," Hermione said.


	18. Eight Questions

"Harry, if I didn’t know you don’t drink, I’d think you was hung-over," Hagrid said as he saw Harry dragging himself through the Great Hall on the second Saturday in October. "You’re not going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"No. Lupin’s off on official business. I’m doing homework all weekend," Harry replied.

"Did you sleep last night?" Hagrid asked. Harry shook his head no. "Well, I’m presently a bit rushed, but after you’ve eaten, bring yourself down to my house," he said.

"I promise not to get you in trouble this time," Harry whispered.

"Don’t worry. McGonagall’s forgotten all about them maces and crossbows," Hagrid leered. "Bring your homework."

"Where are you off to?" Harry wanted to know, trailing behind him.

"Malfoy Senior is coming to see Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore this morning."

"What for?"

"Dunno. But I’m to make sure the Headmaster’s office is ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Nothing for you to worry yourself about," Hagrid clucked, patting Harry’s head. "See you in an hour."

"Bye," Harry laughed. Sixty minutes later, he was standing outside Hagrid’s hut. He could hear Fang right inside the door, nose to the crack under the wood. Harry walked around the entire building and back to the front before he saw Hagrid rushing across the lawn. The giant came to a stop, stuffed an empty vial into his pocket, and put his other hand to his chest.

"Whew! Go on in. How long you been standing out here?" he huffed, heaving for breath. Harry pushed the door open, lugging one of Hagrid’s arms over his shoulders. "There’s a lad. Where’s Ron and Hermione? I thought they might come along with you."

"They were playing footsie under the breakfast table. Said they were going to Hogsmeade, but my guess is as soon as Ron’s done with Quidditch practice, they’ll lock themselves in a broom closet somewhere," Harry said as Fang pawed him happily.

"Careful there. You’re sounding jealous."

"Me?"

"Been seeing this coming for better than a year now. What happens when Hermione decides which one of you she prefers in that sense."

"In what sense?"

"Ron and Hermione are your best friends. You should be happy for Ron."

"I’m not jealous of Ron and Hermione. Neither one is my type," Harry laughed. Hagrid smiled nervously. "I mean, it’d be nice to have kissed someone who wasn’t sobbing at the time, but I’m sure, eventually, I’ll find someone. But not Hermione. Gods, no!" he protested, shaking his head. "It would be like dating my sister. I’m not attracted to her."

"Like you’re not attracted to Professor Volkova?"

"I’m not," Harry said flatly. Hagrid chuckled at him. 

"Isn’t there anyone you’ve thought about since Cho Chang?" Hagrid asked. "Not meaning to pry."

There was an awkward silence before Harry pulled a folded cloth out of his bag and thrust the bundle at Hagrid.

"Like a biscuit?" he asked timidly.

"Harry, at your age, it’s not healthy to spend too much time mooning over what might have been."

"I’m not," Harry assured him. He hadn’t so much as thought about Cho Chang. Okay, maybe once. He had a vague recollection of a dream that involved naked quidditch. But that was weeks ago.

"Nor is it good to set your hopes on someone all wrong for you."

"What are you driving at?" Harry wondered, taking a bite of one of the cookies. Hagrid lifted one out of the bundle and eyed Harry.

"Professor Volkova," he said.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I don’t have a thing for her, I promise you."

"Harry, I realize I’m the last person you’d take romantic advice from," Hagrid began.

"Not necessarily," Harry smiled, feeling his cheeks turn red. "There’s twenty or thirty other people right off the bat that come to mind," he added. Encouraged, Hagrid continued.

"What I’m trying to say is, if there’s anything you’d like to ask me that you’re not sure about, I’m here for you."

He let the sentence linger as he ate another cookie. A light went on in Harry’s eyes.

"There are a few things I’d like to ask about," Harry nodded quickly.

"All right then. You can ask anything you want," Hagrid said, putting Harry in a chair and tossing a kettle of water over the fire to boil for tea.

"What can you tell me about Illumina and Severus?" 

Hagrid tipped tea leaves into large mugs.

"That’s not what I meant when I said I’d answer questions."

"You said whatever I wanted to know," Harry pointed out.

"I meant in a romantic sense."

"This is romantic. I want to know how they got together."

"I should have never given you that card," Hagrid sighed. "Professor Snape was right angry at me for it. I should have known better than to dangle a mystery in front of you."

"So what is she like?"

"Adventurous. Always looking for danger and throwing herself headlong into it. She was feisty, and funny. Even though she wasn’t what you’d call a classic beauty, she was courted by a number of young men while she was here. Lucius Malfoy made a perfect fool of himself over her. You should have seen it."

"Lucius?" Harry gulped, his eyes wide. 

"She saw through him though. A sensible Ravenclaw, that one. She was rather taken with Remus Lupin for a while, but they didn’t work out though."

"Why not?" Harry wondered. 

"Er....you’d best ask him about that," Hagrid stammered. 

"How did she wind up marrying Professor Snape?" 

"That’s a mystery to many of us, but not a tale for me to tell either."

"I can’t ask her about it, now can I?"

"No."

"Can’t ask him either. Wouldn’t be polite."

"So you’re asking me?" Hagrid laughed. "Your ears are too young for this."

"My ears have been around. They’ve heard things," Harry insisted.

"Delving into people’s personal lives can be dangerous, for them and for you. It’s not a game."

"It could be. You wanna play a game?"

"What kind of game?" Hagrid asked skeptically.

"Ten yes or no questions, and you must answer them all truthfully."

"Ten, no. Eight, maybe."

"Nine?"

"Eight."

"Why eight?" Harry wondered.

"My lucky number," Hagrid said. 

"Okay! Eight it is. What I want to know is---"

"What’s your rush? What do I get for my eight answers?"

"You can ask me eight questions, and I will tell the whole truth."

"Don’t you have homework you should be doing?"

"Is that one of your questions?" Harry beamed.

"Is that one of yours? Tricky little bugger, yes you are."

"Who should go first?" Harry asked.

"You’d better talk fast, Harry. You’re down to six questions," Hagrid told him, eating another cookie. "These are terrific."

"Do you really like them? Oh!" Harry gasped. "You tricked me!"

"Course I did. Down to five. Fire away," Hagrid grinned. "You made them this morning?"

"Yes. You’re down to five too."

"No. I have six. Does this mean I go first?"

"Five," Harry giggled.

"You go first," Hagrid poked him.

"If Lucius was head over heels with Illumina, why didn’t she marry him? He’s got money, power, and not to mention the whole fear of retaliation if she refused him."

"Illumina came from older money and purer blood than Malfoy’s, and she knew he was only interested in her because of the renown that would bring to his family. Her relatives had come to London from Venice and settled down proper while the Malfoys were still sailing the seven seas. She wasn’t interested in his kind of power. She didn’t give a damn about him retaliating either."

"How did Severus Snape snag her? I suspect it involved a potion."

"This didn’t involve love potion. He was fond of her– that was apparent from when they stepped off the boats. He didn’t slobber all over her the way Lucius did. He made her feel appreciated for more than her family heritage and blood line. He admired her for her mind, the way he did Mrs. Snape. If there’s one thing you learn about Severus Snape, it’s that his mother walked on water."

"So I gathered," Harry nodded grimly. 

"Severus has a quiet way of admiring people. He didn’t burst forth with presents and flowers and poetry and such, like Lucius did. I think that’s because he’s too afraid of rejection. No. He does things slow and easy. They grew closer gradually. It took Severus six weeks to say hello to her first term, first year. How he ever got up the nerve for ‘marry me’ is a mystery."

"Maybe she asked him," Harry suggested.

"Maybe," Hagrid agreed. "My turn. How’s them fencing lessons coming along?"

"He’s a task master. Thank you again to you and Lupin."

"You’re welcome again, from both of us."

"Three left."

"Four. Does it surprise you he’s a task master as a trainer?"

"No."

"Tea?"

"Three," Harry giggled. Hagrid took a playful swipe at him, and then poured the water over the leaves. "Can I tell you something silly, and you won’t laugh at me?"

"All right."

"You promised to tell the truth," Harry reminded him.

"I will."

"Do you think Professor Volkova is a pervert?"

"Whaaaat?" Hagrid stammered. 

"She’s always touching me, putting her hand on my arm or on my shoulder. Ron said she’s a perv."

"I don’t know if I’m qualified to tell you if she’s pervy, lad," Hagrid murmured. "But if she makes you uncomfortable, you should go to McGonagall, or to Dumbledore about it."

"I’m not uncomfortable, but it’s weirding me out," Harry admitted. "I mean, I’m not used to it, people I hardly know wanting to touch me. Is this because I kissed her?"

"Some folks touch when they talk. It’s natural for them," Hagrid offered.

"I know," Harry said. "I’m not used to it is all."

"One question left," Hagrid said. "You want to ask it now, or save it up for later?"

"I’ll squander it. It’s a long one though," Harry said, giving Hagrid the last cookie.

"I’ll put my thinking cap on," Hagrid laughed. "Will I need paper and pencil?"

"Illumina Snape worked with the Deusredeti. Anna Volkova worked with the Deusredeti. Illumina disappeared while on a mission in Bucharest. Volkova is a former vampire hunter, and I suspect Illumina Snape is now a vampire. How could they both work for the Deusredeti, and be on opposite sides like that? Why are Snape and Volkova so at odds? Is Snape a vampire too? Are they at each other’s throats because of Illumina, and what happened to her? There’s something deeper to this hatred between Professor Snape and Volkova than the Dark Arts job. I can feel it. I can smell it. There’s something rotten and nasty working to the surface between them."

"You’ve got good instincts, Harry," Hagrid said. "By my count, that’s about six questions though."

"Pick one," Harry shrugged.

"Severus Snape is not a vampire. You’ve seen him in daylight, full sun, and at the dinner table. Does he appear to be a creature of the night to you?"

"Him, no. Lucius Malfoy, maybe," Harry nodded.

"You got the blood sucker part right," Hagrid agreed. "No. Lucius is warm flesh and blood too."

"Snape hates Volkova for being a vampire hunter. Is he worried she is after his wife?"

"Volkova is a FORMER vampire hunter, from what McGonagall says."

"It’s a bit like being a former prostitute, probably," Harry commented. "You might have given it up, but when the chips are down, you’ll still know what you’re doing if you’re in a tight spot. Am I right or not?" Harry smiled when Hagrid coughed up a laugh. His smile faded as he thought for a moment. "That’s horrible for Professor Snape though," he said sadly. "He took it very hard, did he?"

"He took it extremely hard, and didn’t give up without a fight. Severus tried to save Illumina, but it was too long between when she was bitten and when she was brought to St. Mungo’s. If he had gotten to her fast enough, there are potions that can be used to reverse the effects. It all depends on the strength of the victim, and the time between bite and treatment."

"I thought once you were bitten, that’s all she wrote," Harry said. 

"Professor Snape adapted an ancient cleansing potion he found, and tried it on her. It didn’t work on her. But since then that potion was adapted for others, and they were successfully reversed to normal humans."

"He can turn vampires back into humans?" Harry gaped.

"If they get the potion in time, yes."

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

"You didn’t think Professor Dumbledore wanted Severus at Hogwarts for his sparkling personality, did you? He’s a natural with potions. He’s a natural, and he’s an artist," Hagrid bragged.

"But it was too late for Illumina?" Harry said.

"I’m afraid so."

"What happened?" Harry asked. 

"Snape went into a deep depression, wandered around for a while. We worried he might never come back to Hogwarts. But little by little," Hagrid said, "Dumbledore talked him through it. Lucius never left his side either."

"Lucius?" 

"No matter what all is wrong about him, Malfoy is a good friend. He’s a jerk, a ponce, and a back-stabbing knee-biter, but he’s devoted to Snape, and the feeling is mutual," Hagrid nodded.

"But what about--" Harry started to say.

"You’re out of questions, and you’ve got a bag full of homework there. Let’s see to it, eh?" Hagrid said, pouring Harry more tea.


	19. Blood Suckers

Hours later, a knock at Hagrid’s door brought Harry out of his Transfiguration notes. The table before him was littered with stick pins he had turned into tiny feathers. The late afternoon shadows in the room surprised him. Hagrid got up and stretched, answering the door with a loud hallo.

"Come in, come in!" Hagrid boomed, opening the door widely.

"Hello, Hagrid," Headmaster Dumbledore said as he stepped inside. "Hello, Harry."

Hedwig launched herself at Harry through the open portal, putting him back down in his seat. Harry untied the note on her ankle, dropping it in his lap when it popped and crackled, expanding itself dramatically.

"A note from Lupin?" Hagrid asked. Harry smiled, opening the sizeable scroll. 

"I need to speak to Hagrid alone. Would you mind?" Dumbledore murmured, pointing to the open portal. "It’s chilly though. Did you bring a cloak?"

"We can fix that," Hagrid said, dropping his own furry mantel over Harry. 

"Thanks," Harry smiled happily, picking up his scroll and trailing it out the door behind him. Hedwig poked at Harry’s ear, running her beak along his hair. He reached up and tickled her breast feathers. Fang followed Harry out as well, sticking close to his side. As the door was closing, Harry saw Dumbledore hand Hagrid a small vial. The inside seemed alive with jumping brown dots. 

"Missing something?" Dumbledore asked.

"My flea circus! Where did the boys get off to this time?"

"Lucius Malfoy was squirming in his seat the entire time we talked."

Hagrid closed the door with a wink at Harry, and Harry turned his attention to his letter from Lupin. He made himself comfortable in front of an old tree at the edge of the forest. Fang lounged ungracefully at Harry’s side. The letter wasn’t War and Peace, and it didn’t contain any state secrets or interesting recipes or the like. Lupin must have had a good deal of free time on his hands though, whatever he was up to. He started each page by telling Harry what he was having for breakfast, where he was looking for books to send back, how he was going to spend the afternoon. The letter covered four days, start to finish, and ended with a promise that he would write again soon, and see Harry even sooner. Harry read it four times before he rolled the parchment pages together and retied them. A warm feeling filled his chest, and he lifted the parchment to his nose, inhaling deeply. A wonderful spicy scent greeted him.

"Did you fly through the kitchens on your way here?" he asked Hedwig. "Smells like caraway and black pepper. Could you take it back to the dorm for me? I don’t want to lose it out here."

Hedwig accepted the scroll back, clenching her beak near the end of Harry’s nose while he struggled to get the temporary tie tight enough to hold but loose enough she could undo it herself when she reached his room. He dodged aside, and she dodged with him, getting him on the cheek instead. 

"That’s enough of that," he said, shooing her off. Hedwig called out as she winged her way back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry watched her race with another owl the closer she got to the castle. They dived in tandem into the nearest open window. 

Harry and Fang wandered around the outside of Hagrid’s hut for a few minutes. Harry paused to straighten the wood pile, and to peer into the brown jug propped up beside the wood pile. He pulled Fang along with a soft whistle, going to the edge of the Dark Forest and peering between the trees into the afternoon shadows. 

"How much longer do you suppose they’re going to be?" Harry whispered to Fang. The boarhound looked back over at the house and sat down again. He stared up at Harry and yawned. Clearly a walk wasn’t foremost in his mind. "We could pop in and see if any of the centaurs are around," Harry suggested. Fang slumped his head against his paws and made himself comfortable where he was. "You’re right. It’s probably a bad idea to go in alone."

Harry sat down beside the big tree again, and Fang put his head on Harry’s knee. Harry closed his eyes and listened to nothing at all at first. Slowly he began to pick out one sound from another. 

Birds were calling to each other in the trees. 

The Slytherins were practicing Quidditch over on the field. Their shouts were carrying on the wind.

Fang was breathing heavily, or someone close was. 

A parade of small feet was stamping across flagstones on a walkway. ‘First years,’ Harry thought happily, nestling back into the tree. The bark complained with crackling crunches as his shoulders moved back and forth. Hagrid’s cloak was a little itchy. Maybe those fleas had gotten loose in his pocket too.

Footsteps were approaching, walking over dry leaves. Harry opened one eye. No one was coming across the field from the school. How curious. He opened his other eye and narrowed both. Maybe whoever was approaching was wearing an invisibility cloak, he pondered. He waited but nothing happened. The footsteps grew ever closer, and slower. Fang bounced to his feet and darted away, scratching at the door to the house. Harry’s scar began to tingle, and he knew without a doubt he was being watched.

"Ron," Harry whispered. "Are you playing with the cloak again?" he asked softly. The tingling was getting stronger, and it was accompanied by a sense of calmness that was completely unusual considering the circumstances. Harry felt himself standing up when he hadn’t even thought about it. He turned and faced the forest, which was growing ever darker with the coming night. "Ron? Hermione?" he stammered. 

Harry was staring into the shadows as the tingling moved down from his forehead and settled in his chest. His breathing became slower and slower. He could feel himself wanting to sleep, standing up, right here. Harry balanced himself against the tree and shook his head to clear his mind. It didn’t help. His legs began to carry him into the space between the trees, where the shadows were beckoning to him, inviting and dark. It was already as black as night in there, nearly impossible to tell one shape from the next. One shadow in particular, tall and bendable, stepped away from the side of a nearby tree. It took on the shape of a dark-haired man, and at first, Harry relaxed, thinking it was Severus Snape. 

"Professor? Is that you?" Harry whispered. This was not Severus Snape, but someone not unlike him either– tall, pale, dangerous, and spooky. Liquid ruby eyes focused on Harry, and suddenly he could stare at nothing else. The man stepped into better view, his white waxy skin visible even in the gloom.

"Harry!" Hagrid called behind him. "Don’t go in there alone, Harry!"

The giant crashed into the forest, and the sound of his approach broke the hypnotic spell of the man with ruby eyes. The closer Hagrid got, the farther away the man pulled, and the stronger Harry felt. Whoever it had been vanished into the shadows before Hagrid reached Harry’s side. 

"What is it? Did you see something?" Hagrid wanted to know. In response, Harry turned on wobbling legs and hit the ground hard on his knees. Hagrid sat on the ground and pulled Harry protectively close.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked. Hagrid gave him a small shake of his head, confused. Harry lolled in Hagrid’s grip, unable to lift his head and answer.

"Harry? What happened?" Hagrid said anxiously. Potter couldn’t answer though. He closed his eyes and struggled to catch his breath. The world was spinning.

"Did you see anything, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Don’t know for sure. Someone or something in the shadows there," Hagrid pointed. A flat thumb pulled up Harry’s eyelid, and Dumbledore gazed inside. His form was haloed by golden and violet lights. "It looks like he’s been hit by a charisma spell. Take him to Madam Pomfrey at once," Dumbledore ordered.


	20. Choc-o-block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of physical assault

"Is he going to be all right?" Dumbledore asked. The question resounded in Harry’s head, seemingly amplified and softened, echoing around in there. He trembled with the unfamiliar pleasure that streaked through his body. Each syllable from Dumbledore was like a warm nap, a backrub, wool socks, and a hot chocolate all in one. He blinked, drifting in and out.

"He’s been mesmerized. It happens right before they strike." That was Volkova’s voice. She was standing right at Harry’s bedside. 

"You aren’t seriously suggesting we have vampires roaming our forest, this close to the school," Severus Snape growled from the other side of the bed. 

"I’m not suggesting a thing," Volkova answered back. "The facts speak for themselves. Headmaster, you said yourself you recognized the symptoms. Heightened sensory sensitivity. Dilated pupils. Increased heart rate. Increased appetite. Am I correct, Madam Pomfrey? This is the result of a charisma spell."

"Yes, on all accounts. When he wakes up, he’ll no doubt be famished."

"I’m very familiar with the condition as well," Dumbledore said. 

"The boy needs to remain under careful observation," Snape said.

"He’ll be fine," Pomfrey poo-poo’d Snape’s paranoia. 

"The charisma spell should wear off once he’s had a good long rest. But there are other concerns that need to be addressed. He needs a constant protection spell set up around him," Snape insisted.

"Constant observation is going too far. We don’t need to concentrate on the child. We must concentrate on the creature. We need to protect the child, of course, but the creature should not be able to enter the castle unaided," Volkova murmured. Harry felt a hand trace over his forehead and stroke his scar. He nearly levitated off the bed at the feel of it. Every nerve in his body whispered how nice that had felt, and could she please do that in several other places?

"It wasn’t in the castle. It was in the forest," Dumbledore pointed out. 

"My point is, sir, that if one of those creatures got close enough to the child to cast this strong of a spell, how hard do you think it will be to merely carry him away next time he’s left vulnerable?" Volkova said angrily. The hand caressing his forehead moved again, a thumb going down his scar and over it. "Once they’ve decided on a victim, they rarely leave without achieving success. If we keep Mr. Potter in the castle, he will be safe. But we have to search the forest at once, chase this monster out."

"Professor Volkova, take your hands off the boy. You’re causing him to have cardiac palpitations," Snape growled. A heavy blanket was dropped over Harry’s form and stretched out to cover him. 

"I wasn’t trying to harm him," Volkova defended. "Touch is very important in healing. My grandmother was a healer. I learned much from watching her. Isn't your father a renowned healer as well?"

"Severus, I want you to question Harry when he awakens. Find out what he saw. Anna, you are going to come with me, and we are going to search the forest where Harry was. You’ll be able to tell me better than anyone what I’m looking for, what tracks or marks or residual magic will be there."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape answered. Harry heard Dumbledore walking away. Volkova must have gone too. But Snape continued to speak. "I know what you’re up to, Volkova. Don’t cross me. I’ll do a lot more than slam a desk into you."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Volkova whispered.

"Thirty six kills. How many of them did you know, Volkova? How many of them were former colleagues? Ones that you compromised out of jealousy or fear?"

"Someone’s telling tales out of school, I see," Volkova mused.

"They aren’t creatures. They’re people."

"They are predators who will wipe us out if we allow them free reign."

"Think you’re so clever. I know how you did it. I know how you survived so long in your former occupation. I also know why you got out when you did."

"You know nothing, Severus. Nothing."

"Gallahad."

"Speculation. Nothing more. You’re testing me."

"You perfected the Gallahad Elixir, on your own, or with some very talented help. But you perfected it, didn’t you?"

"The Gallahad Elixir is a medieval myth. It’s an allegory for a monk’s sweet dream that he could conquer all evil with only purity of heart, mind, body, and spirit."

"That’s what you have to say, isn’t it? Or your secret is out."

"You could perfect the Gallahad. I know you could. I’ve seen what you can do, Severus."

"Unlike you, I have qualms about the procurement of certain necessary ingredients."

"You have qualms? After all this time? You do astound me, Severus, and you do intrigue me."

"I catch you hovering over Potter in my class again, and I’ll take you straight to Dumbledore."

"I wasn’t hovering," Volkova denied.

"Hovering. Clinging. Loitering. Stalking. What shall we call it?"

"The spell’s proper name is Arachneme."

"You weave your web on my ceiling again, little spider, and I’ll crush you," Severus warned. 

"You’re very sexy when you glare like that," Volkova chuckled.

"Keep yourself away from Potter, and away from my other students as well."

"Difficult to promise, as they are also my students."

"Not for long, if I have my way about you."

"My dear Severus. You could have your way whenever you like. All you have to do is ask nicely," Volkova purred happily. 

"The mere idea of the idea of my way with you is enough to turn my stomach."

"Don't you like blondes?" she asked. "Or do you prefer your women ice cold? I’ll play dead, if that’s what it takes."

Shortly after, she squeaked, as if Snape had grabbed her arm or shoulder.

"You taunt me at great personal risk, Volkova."

"My, you have such a strong grip. I look forward to gripping you back in a more personal setting."

"I will have you brought up on indecency charges," Snape threatened. "Don’t you touch my children for your vile potions."

"I’m not touching anyone," Volkova growled. Her footsteps hurried away at an awkward interval, as if she were trying to recover her balance. Then they evened out, but stayed at a fast clip. A different hand moved over Harry’s locks, delicate and slow. Harry moaned and tossed his head when the fingers moved down over his scar. He felt as if he’d been covered in another blanket, surrounded by warmth and concern. 

"Such a fitful sleeper," Snape murmured. "Don’t fret. I’ll be back."

***

Harry awoke from a miserable dream which vanished around him, leaving a dreary air in the room. He rubbed his face against his pillow and blinked back tears. Ron moved into view.

"All right, Harry?"

Potter sat up slowly, and had a terrible suspicion it was Sunday already. His head throbbed. His glasses were missing. Someone was trying to shove a block of chocolate into his mouth. Harry choked back in alarm, and Ron giggled quietly.

"I’m only doing what Madam Pomfrey said. ‘The minute he wakes up,’ she said, ‘get him to eat this’."

Ron handed Harry his glasses and the block of chocolate, and planted himself in the chair close to the side of the bed. He picked up one of Harry’s pillows as Potter gobbled the chocolate, licking off his fingertips. Ron wasn’t sure what to say, and remained quiet for several seconds, watching Harry devour the remedy.

"Had a bit of a lie-in, eh?" Weasley asked. Harry nodded slowly. "Hermione will be here directly. She’s in the library. At least pretend you’re shocked by that."

Harry smiled at Ron weakly. Dreams echoed in Harry’s head, dreams involving a lot of naked flesh and the feeling of a hot wet mouth all over his body. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"Do you remember anything?" Ron asked. "Snape and Volkova were here earlier. It looked like Dumbledore was going to have to throw water on them to get them apart."

"Red eyes," Harry said woozily after a minute.

"Malfoy’s been telling everyone you were snatched up and ravished by a vampire. What a stupid git," Ron put in as he heaved an impatient sigh. Harry had another dream image go through his mind– a man with dark hair mounting him and shoving himself deep inside, riding Harry with such ferocity that every nerve in the boy’s body was screaming with pain and pleasure. It was so real that Harry could believe he was remembering and not imagining. He trembled violently. Ron moved from the chair to the bed, putting a hand on his arm. "Harry, nothing like that happened," Weasley assured him tenderly. "Are you all right? Malfoy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He wasn’t even there. Get a grip. Holy moldy cricket wickets. You got hit by a charisma spell. You got light-headed. You passed out. You slept for fourteen hours. Now you’re going to want to eat everything in sight for a couple days. End of story."

"He’s awake. Perfect timing," Hermione said as she hurried into the room and pounced on the end of the bed. "I got the books, but it wasn’t easy."

"What books?" Harry croaked.

"You were mumbling about Gallahad. She went and looked him up."

"I was?"

"One of King Arthur’s knights," Hermione announced, tossing a pictorial about Camelot into Harry’s lap and nearly compromising his future ability to have children. "And, as chance would have it, a mythical elixir used to defend the holy against attack from the impure."

"So why was Harry mumbling about him?" Ron wanted to know.

"Whoa," Hermione whispered. She had been scanning a list of ingredients from a potion manual. Ron leaned over to try and look, and she shut the book right quickly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hermione lied. "Harry, what made you think of Gallahad?"

"Snape and Volkova were arguing above me. They mentioned it. That’s all I remember."

"Let’s have a look then," Ron said, tugging the book. Hermione held fast, jumping up off the bed.

"Who has the Gallahad Elixir, Harry? Snape or Volkova?" she asked.

"Snape accused Volkova of having it," Harry told her. "He was very sure."

"Uh oh," Hermione paled. "We have to go see if....see if....Madam Pomfrey has brought up that tray from the kitchens for you. Yes. We’ll be back in a jiffy."

"I’ll stay with Harry. You check on the tray."

"Ron."

"What? God. It’s like we’re already married," he said to Harry. 

"Ron. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To check on Harry’s food," Hermione lied, her eyes glittering with nervousness. 

"It takes two of us to do that?"

"Yes."

"You’d better go," Harry said to Ron. "She clearly wants to tell you something that I’m not supposed to hear about, owing to my delicate nature."

"Now, Harry," Hermione soothed, putting a hand on his arm. 

"I don’t care what it is. I’d rather not know, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve had enough bad news," Harry sulked. He closed his eyes as Hermione dragged Ron out into the hallway, where they bickered back and forth. The dream returned to Harry, the one of being forced against his will by the man with dark hair, the man he had seen in the forest. Strange hands were prowling his clothes, touching his body. A wet mouth bit and kissed its way around his most sensitive areas. Harry gulped, blinking back tears.

It was so real. Was Ron lying to him? Had something happened out there?


	21. A Gentlemen's Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: warning: frank discussion of sexual abuse and a bit of innocent flirting

Instead of Ron and Hermione returning, Harry was surprised to see Snape come through the door to the hospital ward. He was levitating a tray as he cautiously approached the bed. When he was inches away, he gave a slow, charming smile that was meant to soothe. It only served to make Harry more nervous.

"You’re awake," Snape said.

"Yes, clearly," Harry replied.

"We need to talk, Mr. Potter," Snape said. He pulled the tray down and set it in Harry’s lap. Potter’s mouth watered at the sight of sandwiches and pretzels and cookies, fruit and nuts and bananas and such. As hungry as he was, though, he had to be cautious. He picked up the brightest, reddest, most-inviting apple and handed it to Snape. Severus held it absently, turning the fruit around in his long fingers. "I need to know what you remember," Severus said. Harry waited, watching him. Snape lifted the apple to his mouth and took a large bite, lifting a napkin from the tray in order to dab the juice off his mouth. As Snape chewed slowly, Harry picked up a stick of celery and took a snapping bite. When Snape lifted the apple to his mouth a second time, Harry spotted his wand up his sleeve.

"I don’t remember much," Harry said around a mouthful of celery.

"It’s important that you are perfectly honest with me, Harry," Snape said. Harry looked at the pumpkin juice. Was it laced with Veritaserum? Snape watched Harry lingering carefully over the tray, clearly not sure what he should and shouldn’t touch. Sensing the boy’s discomfort, Snape lifted up the goblet and took a big drink. Harry relaxed. When Snape handed Harry the goblet, Potter took a big drink as well.

"I remember red eyes," Harry offered. Severus winced painfully. He was worried. No, more than that. He was frightened.

"What else? Any details would be helpful," the Potions Master prodded. 

"Can we play a game, Professor?" Harry tested. Snape lit up with fury.

"I don’t strike you as the gin rummy sort, do I, Potter?" he said in a deceptively calm voice. 

"If you answer five questions truthfully for me, I will answer five for you. I will tell you anything you want to know."

"Why five?"

Harry picked up half a sandwich and offered it to Snape. He also shifted around under the covers, hoping Snape would sit on the side or the end of the bed.

"It’s my lucky number," Harry answered. Snape planted himself in the chair beside the bed, facing the other beds and the far wall. He accepted the sandwich gracefully though he wasn’t at all hungry. Harry picked up the other half, chewing with meticulous bites. His eyes kept going to Snape’s sleeve. Severus watched those green eyes move back and forth several times, until finally, he withdrew the wand from his sleeve and put it on the covers next to Harry. 

"You first," Snape said.

"Did you come here to Obliviate the daylights out of me if I say the wrong thing?"

"Yes," Snape nodded. "Four left. My turn?"

"Yes. Four."

"We are being strict," Snape smiled. "What or who did you see in the forest, Mr. Potter?"

"He looked like you, or I’d’ve never let him that close. I’m not stupid."

"You’re sure it was a he?"

"A tall, thin man with dark hair, very pale."

"Red eyes," Snape repeated, chewing. He sighed with relief and murmured, "He."

"Dobby made these sandwiches. He butters the bread first. Said it keeps the stuff inside better," Harry commented.

"I’ll remember that next time I ask for a sandwich from the kitchens. Your turn again."

"I didn’t see Illumina."

"I didn’t ask if you had."

"I know. That was a freebie."

"Free bee?"

"Ask five, get one gratis."

"Generous of you."

"Is Illumina out in the forest?"

"No. Two left."

"Who is the man I saw?"

"I have no idea. One left."

"Why were you so afraid Illumina was the one I saw?"

"She’s close by. Not in the forest but in Hogsmeade. I asked her to come visit me at Hogwarts, and I was worried you had seen her. But you did not. My turn."

"At your service."

"Not to be indelicate, Mr. Potter. Rest assured I have valid and pertinent reasons for asking you this. Has Professor Volkova been in any way improperly forward with you when you’ve been alone with her?"

"In what sense?"

"Draco tells me she pays you an inordinate amount of attention in Dark Arts classes. That she’s always touching you, favoring you, using you for demonstrations with spells and such. I myself have seen that the woman can’t be within ten yards of you without putting her hand on you somehow. I’m asking if she has been improper towards you, Harry."

More than a faint trace of irritation colored Snape’s question.

"You mean forward as in---" Harry said, picking up the banana and then putting it back down. He went hot pink, averting his eyes.

"Yes, in a sexual fashion, precisely that. She has made improper advances?" Snape clarified.

"No, sir," Harry mumbled, stuffing half a cookie in his mouth.

"Good," Snape decided. He paused awkwardly. "Has anyone else been improper with you, Mr. Potter?"

"WHY are you asking me this, and WHY should I tell you?" Harry asked angrily.

"You are out of questions, Mr. Potter."

"You are too, Professor Snape."

"Are we at an impasse?" Severus tested.

"Not necessarily. You could offer me more questions," Harry suggested, calming down.

"Very well. I grant you five more. But you must answer my question directly, please."

"Answer mine first."

"Fine. After examining your bruises this summer, I was of a mind that you were tied up on more than one occasion while at the Dursleys, and that they abused you."

"I told you I was. They tied me up at night so I wouldn’t wander about the house trying to off them."

"What I’m asking is if they had other motives for tying you up, other than keeping themselves safe from you. I’m asking if any of them made a sexual attempt against your person. It’s important that I know."

"You’re treading very personal territory, uninvited," Harry said with all the anger his embarrassment allowed. "I asked why you want to know. Would you be willing to answer your own question if I asked you such a personal thing?"

Snape snatched up the goblet and took another drink of pumpkin juice.

"I will answer your questions first, but you must promise to answer mine. I am curious because the state of your purity has a bearing on why Professor Volkova is stalking you."

"Stalking me?" Harry echoed.

"In answer to my own question, I’m happy to report that over the years certain acquaintances have in fact made sexual advances against my person. Though I must admit, not as often nor as recently I would like. This is most likely due to the fact that I spend far too much of my day surrounded by children, who act, if you will, as both a deterrent and a remedy for such longings."

"I don’t follow you."

"I work with children who belong to other people, and therefore I do not wish to have my own. My days with you lot are more than enough."

"I see. You work all day with us, and we drive you nutters, therefore you don’t regret not having your own children because you have us, and even though we drive you nutters, you sorta like us. Am I correct?"

"No comment. My answer, if you please, Mr. Potter."

"I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but the state of my...PURITY..." Harry growled, "...is stable and unchanged. So far as I know, and I’m sure I’d remember, because I’d have to be there, wouldn’t I? If you’re asking if I was molested at Privet this summer, and that’s why I wanted to run away, the answer is emphatically no! Certainly not. You dirty rotten pervert. You ought to hate yourself for asking such disgusting questions of young children."

"Thank you very much for your candor, however unsolicited your editorializing was. Brat."

"You’re welcome," Harry muttered.

"Something troubles you though," Snape sensed. Harry gave a half-hearted shrug, and avoided the Potions Master's piercing eyes. "You have one question left," Snape offered as truce. He glanced up at the mirror on the far wall, and could make out the fading shadow of Professor McGonagall. He had known she was listening through the spelled mirror, and hoped now that she had had her question answered, that she would move away and leave them in peace. 

"I have two," Harry said. 

"One."

Harry mentally counted, and shook his head at Snape.

"Two."

"I beg to differ."

"Beg all you like. I have two yet."

"As you wish. I will give you a ‘free bee’. What are your questions, Mr. Potter?"

"Can you tell me what is it you have against Professor Volkova?"

"I can tell you what I’d like to have against her– a very sharp knife to the throat."

"That’s not what I asked."

"No. I cannot tell you what I have against her."

"You have to be truthful," Harry reminded him.

"Your exact question was if I could tell you, and I truthfully answered that I could not tell you."

"What do you have against Professor Volkova?" Harry said quickly.

"Prat."

"Jerk."

"For five more questions, I will steer you in the right direction," Severus offered. He glanced nervously at the mirror, and couldn’t detect McGonagall’s shadow. That didn’t mean she wasn’t there, of course. 

"Hm...." Harry pondered. "You’ve got more than a wand up your sleeve, haven’t you?"

"Time is wasting, Mr. Potter," Snape gave a very Slytherin smile.

"All right," Harry nodded. "Mine first."

"She’s a dubious instructor with a shady past."

"Ah. It is professional jealousy."

"She’s a vampire killer, and I’m married to a vampire," Snape whispered. "What do you think I have against her?"

"Is that one of your questions? Can I answer it without fear of getting a hot foot?"

"No, and fat chance."

"Pity. I was so hoping you’d say yes," Harry grinned wickedly. "You said Volkova is stalking me, for which the condition of my purity is a matter of concern for you. Are you afraid she wants to molest me?"

"Do you have to sound so hopeful?" Severus questioned spitefully. 

"I’m not HOPEFUL," Harry blurted. "Is this a Voldemort kind of stalking? What does she want from me?" he shivered. 

"A particular body fluid, for a potion she requires, a potion she would have a difficult time living without, if she's taken it for as many years as I believe she has."

"My blood," Harry shivered, having visions of the distant graveyard where he had fought tooth and nail for his life against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"Not your blood, I’m afraid."

"Blood. Sweat. Tears. Earwax. Snot. Urine."

"Getting warmer," Snape said, picking up the banana and putting it in Harry's grasp. A light went on in Harry’s mind. 

"Oh! Ugh. That’s horrible," he recoiled, putting the fruit back down. Snape’s resulting laughter took Harry by surprise. 

"I suppose at your age it should seem so," Snape murmured. Harry didn't like being a source of amusement for anyone. The scraping sound of Severus's muffled laughter made him blush not out of anger, but out of a sense he had in some way shown how very inexperienced he was at certain things. Harry sensed though that Snape was gladdened by the innocence of his reaction. He was certain Snape must have potions or spells that could detect whether or not he was a virgin, and entertained the urge, however briefly, to ask him about them. He was quite afraid what the answer might be, more importantly how the question itself might be interpreted, and decided against asking.

" 'S not like I've had a lot of free time on my hand for that kind of thing as it is," Harry said quickly. His shoulders sank seconds later when he realized how that sounded. Great. He was going from bad to worse.

"Perhaps we can be of use to one another, Mr. Potter. I propose a truce, an accord, a gentleman’s agreement."

"I’m listening," Harry said, feeling his heart skip several beats. Hadn't Hermione said that was against school rules?

"You give me what I want, and I will give you what you want."

"I....what....are you....sure?" Harry stammered.

"Can you keep your mouth shut about what you saw in the forest?" Severus asked. Why was Harry turning such a shade of pink, he wondered. The boy gave a quick laugh, looked away, and quickly became serious again, nodding to his professor.

"Maybe I could. What do I get in return for my silence?"

"Open question and answer sessions, at my discretion."

"What?"

"Complete honesty from me, Mr. Potter, something a select few wizards share."

"Really?" Harry was very intrigued.

"Think of all the things I could teach you," Severus tempted him.

"Yes, you could," Harry said slowly, his voice growing just a shade huskier than usual. "What’s the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Milk from chickens, eggs from cows. I was paying attention, you know. No Slytherin offers complete honesty without getting a benefit in return. I’m not expecting you to be anything but Slytherin."

"There’s no catch," Severus whispered, his eyes practically glowing.

"Yeah, uh huh, right."

"Are we agreed then?"

"No. What’s the catch?"

"Tick tick tick tick tick," Snape whispered.

"Oh, you aren’t going to play me that easy," Harry laughed. "No. All you’re going to do is ask me pervy things about my sex life."

"I have no interest in hearing about your sex life, Mr. Potter," Snape muttered. "My benefit is in knowing that if Professor Volkova asks you to assist her in her quest for potion ingredients, you will come to me at once and tell me. If she ever makes you feel uncomfortable, no matter what, you will come to me."

"All right," Harry said slowly. Snape watched him approvingly, picking up his wand and putting it inside his cloak. Between them, they had left nothing on the tray but a crumbled cookie and the banana. Harry picked up the cookie and offered it to Snape. Severus accepted it with a softened, sad smile.

"Harry, if anyone ever makes you feel awkward or uncomfortable, not just Volkova, you may confide in me, if you wish. If you need someone to talk to, and Remus isn’t about, and it’s a matter that Minerva might find distasteful or too shocking, you may look me up."

"Do you mean it?" Harry wondered, bowing his head.

"Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have offered," Severus replied. It was like reaching his hand across a dark abyss, not knowing what he’d find on the other side. 

"Good. Cause there’s this Potions Master whose been terribly nice to me lately, and it’s starting to weird me out," Harry whispered, not daring to raise his head. Snape's heart wobbled and fell straight down between his knees. Had this child never had a single person he could trust without reservation?

"In all seriousness, Mr. Potter, I’m a very good listener, and discrete as the grave."

"I dunno," Harry whispered, lifting his chin and gazing up at Severus. "I know what you do for a living. Would it be wise of me to tell you all my secrets?" His green eyes twinkled faintly. 

"Not all of them. Only the important ones," Snape mused. "I couldn’t care less what your favorite color is, or who you have indecent fantasies about. I want to know that you are safe, that the wizarding world will always have you to count on, and that James Potter isn’t going to come back and haunt me because I let you down somehow."

"My father haunts you?" Harry asked , intrigued. 

"No. It was a figure of speech."

"Oh," Harry sighed. 

"You know where I am if you need me," Snape said. Severus hesitated before carefully patting Harry on top of the head once or twice. Harry stared at him in shock. Snape gave a stiff bow, turned on his heel, and hurried out of the hospital ward. 

"Too weird," Harry whispered, putting the banana on the bedside table.


	22. Malfoy in a Different Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: warning: bit of slashy flirting

"Potter, what was it like?"

Harry had had his nose in his notes outside the Transfigurations classroom, waiting for Ron and Hermione to appear. Draco had crept up on him on silent feet. Potter studied Malfoy’s bemused smile, and tried to feign boredom.

"What was what like?" Harry asked, putting his hand in the pocket of his robe. He could feel the points of the fake vampire teeth that Hermione had slipped into his pumpkin juice at breakfast. She had meant it as a loving joke, and it had brightened his day considerably.

"What’s it like, losing your cherry to a blood-sucking vampire?" Draco purred. A group of Slytherins had gathered in the classroom door. They were leering and smiling and mocking as usual, and Draco was playing Harry for his audience. Neville Longbottom smiled reassuringly at Harry, but what good were the two of them going to be against about ten Slytherins?

"Dunno, Draco. I’ve never been with your mother. But I hear she’s great," Harry murmured. He kept his voice soft and low. Draco’s eyes hardened, but he kept smiling. His audience was watching, after all.

"Come on, Potter. The whole school is talking about how you got stripped and fucked in the forest. I thought it was nonsense until I saw you at breakfast this morning. You look like you did a whole quidditch team by yourself."

That much was true– Harry did look very tired. He had thought the very same thing when looking in the mirror at himself this morning. But it was best not to let Draco know it. 

"Not the whole team," Harry said, "just the beaters. Something you are familiar with, beatings that is."

Draco gritted his teeth. Harry fingered the fake points in his pocket and tried to remain calm.

"You do realize you’ll start to lose your magic, don’t you? Once your cherry is gone, your magic is no longer the same. No longer as powerful. You will never be as powerful as you could have been. You’ll never be as powerful as me."

"Draco, you’re getting on my nerves."

"Awww," Draco mocked.

"Do you really want to see me lose it, Malfoy?" 

"It would be a moment I would cherish forever, marshmallow boy," Draco smirked. 

"What have I ever done to you, Malfoy?" Harry whimpered, putting his hands over his face and doubling over in orchestrated sobs. It must have been a convincing performance, because even Neville had been fooled. Draco watched Harry in complete surprise, putting a hand on his shoulder as if considering for a moment that he should be comforting. Harry whirled on Malfoy, and Draco let out a piercing scream that cut through the corridor like a whip. Potter pinned Malfoy to the wall by his shoulders and nipped at Draco’s neck with the fake teeth. Neville was doing his best not to scream with amusement. Harry let go of the screaming, writhing Malfoy, who curled to the ground inside his cloak, both hands over his wet neck.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned away from the mortified Draco and found Professor McGonagall was standing behind him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was drumming her fingers on her arm. Harry gave her a hopeful smile, and her eyes widened when they scanned his teeth. 

"If you please, get off the floor, Mr. Malfoy." Minerva held out a hand, but Draco climbed to his feet unassisted.

"Fucking nutter," he hissed at Harry.

"That will be ten points from Slytherin for your vulgar language. Take your seat in the class at once, and don’t open your mouth until something more refined than profanities is going to come out," McGonagall scolded him. 

Malfoy lurched into the doorway, glared back at Harry, and finally managed to get into the room. McGonagall extended her open hand to Harry, and waited. Potter pulled the fake teeth out of his mouth and put them, moist and sticky, into her palm.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Muggle Halloween artifact, ma’am," Harry reported.

"I see," she frowned. "Now tell me, why did you feel it necessary to bite Mr. Malfoy with these and make him scream like a little girl?"

"He was taunting me," Harry complained, cringing because it sounded as lame as it felt. 

"That will be ten points from Gryffindor for uncommonly bad judgement, Mr. Potter. I expect you to begin to develop a thicker skin when it comes to Mr. Malfoy and his comments to you. He baits you for a reaction, and you never fail to give him one. I want it to stop. End of story."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Take them back," she said impatiently. Harry quickly pocketed the teeth. "I don’t want to see those in your mouth again, Mr. Potter. Because if I do, I’ll make you wear them waking and sleeping for a month. Not the fake ones, either. I’ll give you a set of your own."

"No. Really. I understand. I was only joking with Malfoy."

"If this was meant as a joke, it was in very poor taste."

"Yes, ma’am," Harry said, trying desperately to look chastised even though he wanted to grin. 

"Get into class, James, and try to contain yourself."

"Yes, ma’am," he said, eyes wide. 

"I’m sorry. Harry," McGonagall corrected herself, looking as sad as Harry could ever remember. She ushered him inside, wanting desperately to clock him in the back of the head for good measure.

***

"Far as I’m concerned, you’re half responsible for it," Ron told Hermione as they were leading Harry back to the Gryffindor Common Room that evening.

"What? Me?" Hermione protested. "Neville said Harry nearly made Draco pee his pants. Isn’t that worth ten points to you?"

"Sorry I missed it, but honestly, you’re the one who gave him those things."

"Why are you complaining?" Harry said. "I got all those points back in Dark Arts," he smiled.

"Yeah, but all you have to do is smile for Volkova, and she’ll give you points. You sugared her up right well in class, didn’t you? Helping her pass out books. Passing out the exams. Sharpening her quill," Ron teased him. "The rest of us lowly scum have to work hard to earn points."

"Well that’s uncalled for. I’m lowly scum too," Harry sulked, closing his book.

"You have to stop letting Draco mess with you. You have a temper where he’s concerned, and it gets you and all the rest of us in trouble," Ron lectured.

"This from the definition of serenity. You know what Malfoy’s like."

"He’s a nobody. If he weren’t Lucius ‘I’m a Death Eater’ Malfoy’s son, he’d be invisible here. No remarkable brains or skills. No charm to speak of unless you like the icy blond type. Oh wait. Wrong tack."

"That’s enough," Harry growled. "I do not fancy Professor Volkova."

"Could have fooled me," Ron snapped back.

"Do you think what Draco said is true?" Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Ron briefly.

"What?" she said impatiently. "Harry, you were fully clothed when they brought you to the hospital ward. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you didn’t get molested by the vampire."

"No! I meant the other part. If you lose your virginity, do you also lose your magic?"

Ron and Hermione both looked at each, and quickly looked away. 

"No," they answered in unison. Harry was by turns intrigued and repelled by the implications of this.

"Ick," he commented, and nothing else. He was certain neither of his friends was going to elaborate unless pressed for information, and further information was the last thing Harry wanted. 

"It’s a rumor perpetuated by those with much to gain in controlling the sexual habits of other wizards. The myth has a basis in fact, of course," Hermione continued. "Witches can experience fluctuations in their magic during pregnancy, find themselves unable to use or control their magic. Adolescent wizards and witches can have wild mood swings during periods of growth and this affects their magic in unpredictable ways. Certain wizards and witches who have maintained a purity of body do often wield greater magic than those who made more carnal decisions. But one does not necessarily prevent or insure the other. I mean, they may or may not be related. It’s hard to tell. The real difficulty is finding a willing control group for more studies."

"What are you listening to Draco for? He’s jealous of the attention Volkova has been paying to you, and he’s mad no one’s interested in stealing his cherry," Ron laughed.

"Yes, and he’s not the only one," Harry said pointedly. Ron frowned at him.

"Draco’s more than jealous. He’s perfectly livid," Hermione said. "I heard him telling Crabbe and Goyle that you ought to be expelled for flirting with the instructors."

"I’m not flirting with her," Harry insisted. "I’m being nice, that’s all."

"It’s pretty obvious there’s a bond between you and Volkova, Harry. Why are you fighting so hard against it?" Ron asked. "You two connect on some level."

"She’s being nice, and I’m being nice, and that’s all there is to it," Harry said. Ron and Hermione were neither one convinced, but Hermione did a better job of hiding her feelings on the matter.

"Even if you don’t fancy her, she clearly fancies you," Hermione offered. "Which is bad news."

"You think?" Harry smirked.

"Because I mentioned her in a letter to Viktor Krum."

"Uh oh," Harry whispered.

"Wait for it, wait for it," Ron murmured.

"As luck would have it, Viktor knows someone who knows someone whose cousin went to the school where Volkova taught before coming to Hogwarts."

"Yeah?" Harry urged Hermione to go on.

"Volkova did have an affair with one of the other instructors, the freshly-trained, newly-graduated, very young Potions Master, to be precise."

"The undoubtedly virginal Potions Master," Ron supplied helpfully.

"Uh oh."

"Not only that, they had a seriously nasty public breakup, in the cafeteria, in front of the entire student body, where said Potions Master accused her of using him to, shall we say, further and meet all her own needs and not see to any of his."

"How selfish of her."

"Wait. Gets better," Ron grinned.

"Do you want to know why she’s no longer a vampire hunter?" Hermione asked.

"Don’t tease. You know I do," Harry whispered.

"Because she was responsible for another vampire hunter getting attacked and converted."

"Illumina Snape?" Harry gasped.

"No. Someone else," Hermione said. "Illumina Snape was never a vampire hunter. She was a tracker for the Ministry, remember?"

"Oh, right," Harry nodded. "What does a tracker do?"

"They track, Harry. Why do you ask these questions?" Ron teased him. It was Harry’s turn to frown.

"The point is, Volkova went renegade, hunted down the person she was responsible for getting infected or converted or whatever, and she killed them," Hermione interjected.

"Bad form," Harry decided. "Guess there’s no mystery where the Sorting Hat would put her."

"You got that right," Ron snorted. "She’s got Slytherin written all over her."

"She’s positively no good for you, Harry," Hermione told him plaintively.

"I couldn’t agree more."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped back from the Pink Lady’s portrait when Draco stepped out of the shadows. 

"Poor little Slytherin, can’t find your own Common Room?" Hermione asked.

"Mudblood, I don’t need directions from you."

"Listen to me, you prancy, inbred twit. If I were going to give you directions, it sure as hell wouldn’t be to the Slytherin lair," Hermione snapped.

"Potter, can I have a private word with you?" Draco asked.

"About what?" Harry asked, putting a hand on Hermione’s arm when she went for her wand.

"It’s private, Potter, by definition, private," Draco went on.

"I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about," Harry laughed darkly.

"Five minutes."

"It’s a trap," Ron cautioned. "He’s going to get you isolated and zap you."

Draco took out his wand and handed it to Hermione. Then he moved down the corridor and waited for Harry.

"He seems pretty serious," Harry said.

"I don’t trust him," Hermione said, glaring in Malfoy’s direction.

"If you see smoke and flames, alert McGonagall," Harry said, giving up his wand to Ron and going down to talk with Draco. 

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, pointing his wand and Harry’s wand towards the pair of silhouettes.

"Okay, Malfoy. The clock is ticking," Harry said. 

"Potter, I--"

"Wait." Harry held up a hand. "Ground rules. For every minute of my precious time you waste, you will donate a hundred galleons to St. Mungo’s towards the care of magical maladies."

"Fine. I need–"

"Wait. More ground rules."

"Hurry up."

"You must want to talk to me very badly," Harry mocked. "Want another bite on the neck?"

"My father is gone."

"What?"

"This morning he vanished from Malfoy Manor. He walked out of the gates, and he’s gone."

"I didn’t know."

"No note. Not a word to my mother. He didn’t so much as pinch the house elves on the way out."

"You can’t believe I had anything to do with this. I was busy this morning, and so were you."

"You might have heard something."

"No."

"Overheard something?"

"No."

"Seen anything in your sleep about it?" Draco fretted. The desperate look on Malfoy’s face was a bit of a shock for Harry. How did Draco know about Harry’s dreams? Malfoy pulled a wrinkled and reread piece of parchment from his pocket. "I found this in my father’s study. It’s from Professor Snape. A mutual acquaintance has had what he fears is a precognitive dream. Where am I spending the summer? Am I in good health?"

"What makes you think they were talking about me?" Harry asked.

"I followed my nose, Potter."

"Your nose is totally off mark," Harry denied. 

"I spent the summer in southern France, researching the Malfoy family tree. Do you know where I spent most of my days? In the family crypt, crawling around, reading dusty plates tacked on dirty coffins."

Harry gasped, and took a step back from him. 

"That doesn’t prove a thing," Harry bluffed.

"It’s my father, Harry. I know how you feel about him, but he’s my father. What if it were your father?"

"It’s not my father, Draco, and I suspect somehow that I have your father to thank for it."

"I’m not denying you’ve got no reason to help me. But put yourself in my shoes, Harry."

"Draco, I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry."

"I had a distant cousin who was a seer. She was able to find whatever or whoever you wanted if you gave her something associated with your question. She would sleep with it under her pillow, or in her pocket, and by morning, she would know your answer."

"I don’t understand where this is going, Draco."

Malfoy put the letter away, and pulled out a beautiful silver locket on a long chain. He coaxed it into Potter’s hands.

"Put this under your pillow. If you don’t dream about him, no hard feelings. I won’t bother you again. But if you do dream about him, you will tell me what you see."

"Why will I tell you?"

"I will be extremely generous to St. Mungo’s. I’ll even donate in your name. Ask your price, and you shall have it."

Harry remained unconvinced.

"Where’d you get this?" Harry asked, lifting the locket to look inside. The tiny portrait of a very elegant, slender blonde woman was inside.

"If not the poor unfortunates at St. Mungo’s, think of how generous I could be to you," Draco added. He glanced Harry up and down, gave a half-scary, half-charming smile, and pretended to pick an imaginary spot off Harry’s shoulder.

‘Bloody hell,’ Harry’s mind raced. He felt color rise to his face. Had Draco Malfoy made a pass at him? Malfoy stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them to an uncomfortable mere inch or two.

"Do you want to see me beg, Potter? Do you want me on my knees?"

"No," Harry gulped.

"You do this for me, Harry, and my generosity will blow your mind," Draco promised.

'Most definitely a pass,' Harry’s brain commented.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ his cock replied.

Draco backed away, his face hardened against disappointment. His eyes were still pleading with Harry though. ‘When a fellow wizard asks for your help,’ Harry thought.

"If this works, Malfoy, I’m going to own you," Potter murmured, stroking the locket. 

"Perhaps you’ll find that won’t be as unpleasant as you believe. Thank you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sleep tight," Draco replied. He gave Harry a low, graceful bow, before he strode over to Ron and Hermione. Draco collected his wand from Hermione, wearing his usual smirk again.

"Mudblood," he taunted as he walked away. 

"Twit," she spat.

"What was that all about?" Ron wanted to know, stampeding over to Harry’s side. Hermione saw the chain dripping from Harry’s hand. He offered the locket for her to see.

"Draco’s father is missing. He asked if I would sleep with this under my pillow and see if I dream about where Lucius might be."

"Right," Ron joked. "What’s it really about?"

"It could be jinxed," Hermione warned, giving the locket back to Harry. "You’d better ask someone to have a look at it before you try."

Harry stared at her evenly.

"You knew?"

"Tonks told me," she shrugged.

"Told you what?" Ron wanted to know.

"Harry’s been having precognitive dreams since summer. This often hits clairvoyant wizards in mid-puberty," she said. "No one knows if it’s permanent or not until you’ve finished growing, and that won’t be for several years."

"Cool," Ron said. "Can you tell me what questions will be on the next Potions quiz?"

"No," Harry said flatly.

"I don’t care how pathetic and desperate he looks, you can’t trust Draco Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Yeah, it could be jinxed," Ron agreed. "A delay portkey. Your head winds up in Honolulu, and your buttocks go to Bogota."

"Dolt, you have to be in actual physical contact with a portkey for it to work. Under the pillow won’t do. Get someone to check it out for you, Harry," Hermione ordered. 

"I know just the person for the job," Harry nodded.


	23. Unwholesome Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: warning: sexual situations and insinuations

Harry could hear voices inside Snape’s office before he put his hand on the knob.

"I would use terms more harsh than seething and uncooperative."

"If you knew any."

"I need your help, Severus. How often do I grovel at your feet?"

"Not often enough," Snape replied.

"You can make this potion in your sleep, Severus. How long have you waited for me to admit what a skilled professional you are?"

It sounded like Remus Lupin, but as if his voice was coming in over a distant phone line. 

"You can’t expect I’m really going to help you with this, especially if you don't tell me why you're doing it."

"If you’re not up to the challenge, I can find another Potions Master who is."

"Oh, can you? One who doesn’t mind being an accomplice in a capital crime against a wizard’s person? You go right ahead, Wolf Boy."

Harry knocked loudly. Severus stopped talking and shushed the other person.

"Contact me in two hours," Snape offered a moment later. 

"You’ll recommend someone?"

"I might have an idea."

"You’re a prince, Severus."

"Yes, Prince of Darkness, and don’t you forget it."

Harry heard footsteps to the door. Snape whipped the portal open, and stared down at Potter more intently with one eye than the other as he cocked his head to the left.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

"Did I hear Remus Lupin’s voice?"

"Shouldn’t you be asleep?"

"Are you busy?"

"Do you know how late it is?"

"Are we going to stand here all night and ask each other silly questions?"

"How would you like to spend the rest of this year in a jar on my shelf?"

"Am I interrupting something?" Harry worried, craning up for a look over Snape’s shoulder into the entirely dark office. Snape batted him back with a slight swipe of one hand, which Harry easily dodged.

"Could you be more of a pest?"

"We both know the answer to that question, sir," Harry grinned fetchingly.

"What did I ever do to deserve you in my life, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, his shoulders slumping downward heavily. 

"Whatever it was, I’m sure it was sticky, unpleasant, and none too healthy for the receiving party. Can I come in?"

"The correct question, you ignorant brat, is ‘May I come in?’."

"What’s the correct answer?" Harry grinned. Snape put his forehead against the door frame and sighed his impatience. Harry deflated, lowering his head. "May I come in? Don’t make me beg."

Snape grabbed him by the collar and hauled him into the office, then proceeded to slam closed and lock the door. He covered the door with a flick of dark magic that effectively made it another wall. The office was entirely black except for the fireplace, which rose in response to Snape’s approach. Harry backed away as Severus prowled around him in a circle.

"What do you want, Mr. Potter?" Severus whispered dangerously. What was that wonderful smell in here, Harry wondered. An ancient, sweet perfume lingered in the air, like something that caravans once traveled great distances to bring back from the Far East. Harry inhaled deeply, and hummed softly with the pleasure that tingled through his head and limbs.

"What is that?" he asked.

"What is what?" Snape whispered, stepping even closer to Harry. "Why are you here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry pulled the locket out of his cloak and handed it to Snape.

"Is this jinxed?" he wanted to know. Severus took Harry by the shoulders and shoved him down on the couch that was in front of the fireplace. The smell of the room was making Harry a bit dizzy. 

"Lie there. Do not move. Do not say a single word."

Harry pulled up his legs and lay motionless on the plush divan. Snape slid down to the rug on the floor in front of the divan, and examined the locket. Glowing redness on the table to the side drew Harry’s attention. A tiny metal container with small, circular holes in the lid was putting forth smoke that curled and coiled as it rose towards the ceiling. Harry inhaled deeply again, and the smoke drifted his direction. Next to the container was the blue-ribbon adorned letter that Hermione had said was a whisper. Had Snape been reading that before Lupin and Harry interrupted?

"What occasion brings Mr. Malfoy’s seventeenth-century family heirloom into your possession, I wonder. No. Do not answer. I don’t want a word out of you," Snape muttered. Harry turned onto his side and buried his face in the throw pillow beneath his head. It smelled musky and sweet, like the incense in the air and mingled personal scents. 

"He wants me to find his father," Harry mumbled. Snape looked back over one shoulder at him. Harry closed his eyes, engulfed by sudden sleepiness.

There was a rustling sound of heavy material brushing against the plush divan. Snape sat up on his knees and slid his arms around Harry’s waist. He covered Harry’s mouth with his own, taking pains in coaxing the young man’s lips apart. When Snape’s tongue slid inside, caressing tenderly against Harry’s, Potter groaned softly in response. Who knew Snape was such an excellent kisser? 

One hand, not his own, moved down between Harry’s thighs. He arched eagerly as Snape’s hand cupped him through his trousers. Severus was delighting in every delicate inch of Harry, exploring every detail, and was apparently happy with what he found. Snape’s soft, deep laugh wormed its way into Harry’s ear, followed by his tongue. This was nothing like the terrible, vicious, furious passion the vampire had exacted on Harry. This was slow and gentle. It was wonderful. 

"Up, Mr. Potter. You may not sleep on this divan," Snape whispered.

Harry sat up straight as ordered. Snape began removing Harry’s clothes, kissing and licking his way around the flesh that was bared. First Potter’s robe was gone, then his shirt. Harry shuddered, and leaned his head forward as Severus began to nibble on his neck and shoulder. Snape moved between Harry’s knees, stroking the length of his thighs. Harry opened his legs and curled himself instinctively around the heavy form that pressed against him. Snape was overwhelming and yet careful as well. Harry didn’t know what to think of this. Teeth dug into his neck. He felt his trousers being undone. Aroused and impatient, Harry tried to bite back, tried to find Snape’s clothes with his hands, only to encounter a hand pressed flat over his mouth. 

When the hand disappeared, Snape began sucking another kiss from Harry’s mouth. He was tugging the teen’s trousers down his hips, down his thighs. Harry arched up, and the pants vanished down his legs and were gone. Where had his shoes gone, he wondered. Snape crushed Harry back against the divan, and began to devour his neck, biting and scraping tender flesh. Harry called out when he felt strong fingers curl around his cock and begin to stroke. It was over so quickly. Harry was shuddering, sucking and nibbling on the tongue that had slid into his mouth. He heard himself whimpering involuntarily, not out of fear, but out of terrible longing. He wanted more. He wanted to be held and caressed, to know what it felt like to be cherished. 

"Harry? Harry? Are you all right?" Snape murmured. His voice was close. Harry continued to suck, discovering it was a thumb in his mouth and not a tongue. How odd. A tender kiss touched his forehead, and the thumb went missing, leaving a sticky trail that was quickly wiped away.

"I’m sorry to have to hush you like that. Are you hurt?"

A tender kiss touched his cheek. Harry opened his lips in response, and the other mouth quickly withdrew out of reach. His scar was tingling, but not painfully. His head and body seemed to be moving in different directions, through different worlds. 

"Up now. There you go."

When he came to his senses, Harry was sitting up against Severus, gasping for breath. They were both fully clothed, much to Harry’s surprise. He had his legs clutched at Snape’s sides where his instructor was kneeling in front of him. Harry’s trousers and undershorts felt soaked and sticky in the apex around his genitals. It was a coin toss as to which of the men was more mortified. Harry gulped back his horror. Snape’s face, usually such a mask of disdain, was filled with open alarm. He offered a shoulder, and Harry leaned forward. The boy groaned miserably, and started to cry. He couldn’t help it. Snape stroked his back, utterly awkward.

"Entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have put you on this thing. What was I thinking, planting a budding clairvoyant here? You don’t know how many times I’ve had sex on these cushions, often with other people. I do apologize most humbly. Sweet Merlin, whatever did you see me doing? With whom? Dumbledore would have my balls for this if he knew. Let’s get you away from here, hm?"

Severus picked Harry up and carried him over to the desk, where they sat in his large chair. Severus held Harry across his lap. Dizzy and tired and confused, Harry nestled close and held on. The dream had subsided, but was not entirely gone. His terrible longing remained– a longing he hadn’t known since he was a small child hiding in the dark corner of his cupboard, whimpering for his mother, and not understanding where she’d gone. Who were these people he was with, and why did they hate him so much? He'd never done anything to them. Maybe it made some terrible sense that he struggled so desperately against Snape almost all the time, when all he had ever wanted was approval from him. Snape treated Harry just like the Dursleys did, with anger and hatred and resentment. Harry filled with fear, knowing suddenly that Snape was inside his mind. He pushed the memories and thoughts away, pushed them as far away as possible.

"Shhh," Severus whispered, rubbing Harry’s back again. "I don't hate you. I've never hated you." 

He dried Harry’s face with as tender a touch as he could, withdrawing from Harry’s mind. With a swish of Snape’s wand, the clothes Harry was wearing changed from his school uniform to his Quidditch clothes, complete with protective pads and outer cloak. Even his shoes were replaced with regulation runners.

"The others are in your hamper upstairs. Not to worry," Severus said. Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his sleeves over his eyes. "Are you all right?" Severus asked, rummaging through the desk, opening and closing drawers in search of something. "Here. Open your mouth."

Harry opened up like a little bird, and sweet-tasting drops touched his tongue, administered from the eye-dropper that Snape was wielding. Snape quickly hid the vial once more. Harry recognized the cherry-flavored cheering potion from Madam Pomfrey’s own supplies, though this batch tasted more potent. Harry swallowed hungrily, and slowly put his glasses back on. He stared at the floor, hunched down in humility as he waited for the cheering potion to take effect. 

"Tell me about the locket," Snape said, putting the trinket back in Harry’s hands.

"Draco wants....wants me to sleep with this under my pillow. He found your letter to Lucius about my dreams this summer. He’s got it in his head I can help him find his father. I wanted to make sure my head wasn’t going to blow up."

"The locket is not jinxed. In fact, it’s totally Muggle as far as I can tell."

"It is?"

"As far as I can tell. I need more time to examine it thoroughly."

"Draco’s not having me on then?"

"No," Severus promised. A knock at the door/wall made them both jump in alarm.

***

"I’m not disturbing you, am I, Professor Snape?" Volkova asked, downright charming when Severus opened the door to the office. "I thought I heard voices."

"You should see a professional." Severus’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Boyish giggles from the office drew Volkova inside. Harry was sitting in the chair behind Snape’s desk, thumbing through a textbook, trying desperately to look casual.

"May I come in?"

"We’re having serious discussion about potions."

"Bit late for lessons, isn’t it?"

"It’s a very dark potion. Moonlight is a requirement," Harry interjected enthusiastically. Snape worried that he had given the boy too many drops of the quick-fix. 

"Highly unusual," Volkova called back. "I know of only five potions off-hand that require moonlight to stimulate the results."

"There are seven, actually," Snape commented.

"Oh! Here we go. Moonlight enhancement of male virility," Harry said happily. Severus nailed him with a deadly, one-eyed stare that made the hair on Potter’s neck stand up.

"Why would you need a virility potion at this hour, and with such innocent company?" Volkova asked.

"It’s not for him, it’s for me," Harry chirped.

"What do you want?" Snape asked Volkova.

"May I come in?"

"She knows the right question," Harry said.

"If I say no?" Snape inquired, ignoring Potter as much as he could.

"I would be most eager to discuss with the Headmaster your answers to two pertinent questions," Volkova whispered, lowering her voice so only Snape could hear.

"What might those two questions be?" he replied in a similar low voice.

"Why Harry is bouncing around your office at twelve midnight, wearing his Quidditch uniform, and if the semen on your trouser leg belongs to you?"

Snape looked down as casually as possible, watching the small wet spot on his upper thigh. It was no bigger than a knut. How did she know what it was, he wondered, before remembering exactly who he was dealing with. He really had to wash these slacks and fast. But for now, he had to decide what to do with Volkova. Quelling his horror, he made his face a mask of calmness, and raised his dark eyes to her.

"You’ve come at a bad time."

"I’m clearly not the only one."

"Who knew you had such wit?" he mocked.

"I knew you’d go to great lengths to keep him away from me, but did you really have to take matters into your own hands? Greedy, selfish bastard."

"Your vulgar insinuations are doing nothing to endear you to me, Anna."

"My vulgar insinuations? You’re the one playing naked quidditch with my....my student!" she hissed. Severus stared at Anna and couldn't help but ask himself what she had meant to say. Would she scream very loudly if he cast a Legilimens spell on her? Would Harry intervene?

"What are you two whispering about?" Harry wanted to know.

"It’s my duty to alert the Headmaster that you’re doing morally unwholesome things with one of your students," Volkova warned, raising her voice enough Harry could hear.

"Really? Which one?" Harry asked.

"Potter, do shut up," Snape growled. He opened the office door wide enough to admit Volkova. She slinked inside and kept a safe distance from Snape, which Harry felt showed remarkable insight on her part. Snape leaned a hip against the desk and waited for Volkova to speak. Harry kept quiet, watching them.

"I’m here about Draco. Did you know that Lucius Malfoy has gone missing from his home?" she asked, choosing to remain standing.

"Yes. I was most recently made aware."

"May I say you seem remarkably unconcerned?"

"Lucius is not a man that will allow himself to be held for long, not unless there’s something to be gained from it."

"You’re implying his disappearance might be a self-manufactured event."

"I wouldn’t know, of course. But Malfoy is a powerful sorcerer, one who would not allow himself to be taken without his consent without a fight."

"His son is most distressed."

"I’d be concerned if he weren’t."

"I assured Draco that the authorities were doing all they could, and that he mustn’t be worried, that it will impact on his school work, but I’m afraid that all my attempts to console the child have borne little fruit. As Head of his House, I thought I should come to you."

"Thank you, Professor Volkova. Your concern for Mr. Malfoy is touching." Severus waited a beat and then added, "He is in the Slytherin dorms, I assume."

"No. He came to my office, most upset, and in need of comfort."

"He’s in your office?" Snape’s voice rose.

"I told him to take all the time he needed to pull himself together."

"You left Draco Malfoy alone in your office with Dark Arts manuals and black magic items?" Snape straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you not read his personal file?"

"I have tried to read as many of my students’ files as possible." 

"Have you gotten to Malfoy’s yet?"

"No."

"Let me sum up for you. Not to leave this room," he said, darting his eyes in warning at Harry. "Mr. Malfoy has made a reputation for himself for purloining whatever catches his eye within arms’ reach. In fact, he’s rather a skilled artiste. Needless to say, if you have items missing from your office when you return, you should not be the least bit surprised. He will have helped himself to whatever isn’t nailed down."

"Have you tried to discourage him from this habit?"

"Of course I have. But with precious little success. He claims it’s an uncontrollable compulsion."

"It’s not like his parents cannot afford whatever he might desire."

"Without getting tangled up in messy psychological nonsense, it’s my firm belief that many children who misbehave at school are in search of the attention, positive or negative, that they don’t receive at home."

Snape secreted a meaningful glance at Harry, and Potter ducked down. ‘He means me too,’ Harry understood, terribly embarrassed at how transparent Snape could make him feel.

"Have you discussed this with his parents?"

"On numerous occasions," Snape rolled his eyes.

"What was their response?"

"I don’t feel it’s appropriate to get further into this matter in front of another student."

"Quite right. Would you like for me to talk to Draco?" she offered.

"At your discretion, you may do as you please. He will of course bitterly deny any accusations you level at him, even if he is holding the missing items in his hand in full view. He has a terrific temper. Brace yourself for backlash."

"Backlash?" Volkova puzzled with a furrowed brow. "I hope I don’t have to get physically violent with the boy."

"Perhaps you should go back to your office and see what is missing," Severus suggested.

"Perhaps I will first escort Mr. Potter back to his dorm."

"Mr. Potter isn’t done here," Harry chimed in.

"Mr. Potter needs his sleep," Severus murmured pointedly. He couldn’t have given Harry more than six drops. The potion should wear off well before they reached his dorms. It should have worn off already.

"As you wish," Harry agreed. "Is the thing what I showed you safe?"

"As far as I can tell," Severus answered.

"You’ll put me back together if he splinches me?"

"If I can find all your parts."

"How terribly reassuring," Harry laughed sleepily, making his way to the door. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Severus said. He watched Volkova escort Harry out of sight around the corner, and closed the office door.


	24. Volkova's Offer

"This castle breathes," Volkova murmured as she and Harry tread quietly through the halls. "There are places where it seems alive. I’ve been in very few buildings with such a powerful focus of magic."

"It can be intimidating at first," Harry replied. Now out of Snape’s office, he felt his head beginning to clear. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Snape in class again, or in the halls, or anywhere else in the school, but at least for tonight, he was all right. Harry paused in front of the staircase and waited for Volkova. She paused at his side and watched him.

"Are you well? You’re a bit pale, child."

"I’m all right," he shrugged, embarrassed. She put out a hand, and Harry slid his arm inside hers. 

"You’ve had a rough couple of weeks," Volkova murmured. "I understand that. Too many changes in your life, too many changes in your body."

‘Uh oh,’ Harry thought, hoping he didn’t voice that aloud.

"I hope you won’t think me forward if I tell you, I sense great things in you, a very powerful magical essence."

"Um...thanks," he smiled.

"I’m sure others have sensed that in you as well."

"None have said so," Harry replied. She was working up to an uncomfortable topic. She hesitated a couple times before blurting the words. 

"Perhaps I have been misinformed. I was under the impression that you and Professor Snape were never on friendly terms," she said, urging him up the staircase. He plodded cautiously along, remaining quiet. He was actually having trouble walking, but didn’t want her to notice. 

"I needed advice," Potter replied simply.

"Wouldn’t it have been more prudent to go to Professor McGonagall?"

"I needed someone with Dark Arts expertise," Harry revealed.

"Then you should have come to me," she insisted. "Your eyes are dilated, Mr. Potter. Did Professor Snape give you anything to eat or drink while you were in his office?"

"No," Harry lied. She leaned closer, sniffing at his hair.

"Munia," she whispered. "Was he burning incense?"

"Yes. What did you call it?"

"Munia. Mmm. That takes me back," Volkova smiled, smelling more deeply against Harry’s locks. "I was rather a wild girl once up on a time. I hope that doesn’t shock you. What you see now, this person? She has lived a thousand lifetimes since then," she murmured. "That’s a potent blend. It’s a wonder you can walk," she added, guiding him up the stairs. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Severus Snape, and all the reasons I don’t want you to trust him. I could tell you things about him that would curl your hair."

"We’ve had our ups and downs. I’m not entirely sure I trust him," Harry hedged.

"It’s wise to be cautious when you aren’t sure of someone’s motivations," she praised.

"For that matter, I’m not entirely sure I trust you." Harry couldn’t resist. She considered his words with uncommon honesty.

"Considering the splendid history you’ve had with other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, I don’t blame you. Perhaps you shouldn’t trust me either, until I’ve proven myself worthy of you. I hope you will allow me the chance to prove myself before you judge me, Mr. Potter."

"So far, my Dark Arts teachers have tried to kill me, set me up for a Dementor’s kiss, hand me over to Voldemort, discredit me as a raging lunatic, branded me an attention-seeking liar. On the whole, I will remain skeptical of everyone who ever accepts your position."

"Has anyone hinted to you you’re a tad paranoid for a sixteen year old? Would you be this paranoid if you were anyone but you?"

"If I were anyone but me, I’d be dead."

"If you were anyone but you, people wouldn’t be trying to kill you."

"I’m not entirely convinced," Harry said grimly. "You haven’t done anything to me yet, but it could only be a matter of time before you try and pull something funny on me too."

"I will be many things with you, child, but funny will never be one of them."

"Why? Did you have your sense of humor removed?"

"I’m in a serious line of work, one that does not afford an abundance of chuckles."

"Professors can have a sense of humor, can’t they?" Harry asked. She blinked at him, and found a half smile. "Unless you’re referring to a different line of work?" he ventured. 

"What can I do to help you trust me, Mr. Potter?" she implored.

"Trusting people hasn’t been good for me, Professor," he replied. "Nor good for those I’ve trusted."

"Yes, quite correct. Look what you did to Sirius Black."

Stung, Harry gulped back his emotions and looked away. 

"He was a fine man in his prime, though prone to reckless behavior, I was told," she added. 

"Yes," Harry agreed quietly. "Professor Snape calls it ‘Gryffindor spirit’. I don’t think he means it in a complimentary way." 

"But you don’t seem to have an ill effect on Remus Lupin."

"Not so far."

"And your friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. They are alive and well, if anything bolstered by your acquaintance."

"So far," Harry repeated.

"What are your plans after you graduate from Hogwarts, Mr. Potter? Have you given any consideration to your future? An auror, or perhaps....perhaps a chef?" Her smile was tender with humor, none of it malicious, as far as he could tell. 

"I’m thinking of going into isolation when I graduate from Hogwarts," Harry whispered. Had she been talking to Dobby about him? Surely Remus wouldn’t have told her about what Harry had said, and neither would Snape, that’s for sure. 

"Isolation in what sense?" Volkova asked. 

"Somewhere far away where no one I love will get hurt because of me ever again."

"I could put you into a protected place, Harry," she answered, clinging to his arm. "A place no wizard could breach. A fortress, an institution like Hogwarts, except Voldemort doesn’t dream of challenging us. Whatever topic of knowledge that piqued your interest would be at your fingertips. Books as old as the Library of Alexandria to read. Scrolls with the secrets of a thousand years in their weave, all waiting for you to discover. Your every curiosity would be satisfied. You would be safe. You would be pampered as you’ve never been. Your every whim would be answered."

"You don’t know what you’re getting into. I’ve a lot of whims, you know," he warned. 

"You consider it, and if you’re of the same mind when you graduate, we will discuss it further," she promised. 

"Provided I live that long, eh?" he mused. They cleared the landing. Up ahead, Harry could see the Pink Lady in her portrait. 

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Volkova said, releasing his arm.

"Good night, Professor," Harry replied. Impulsively, he brushed a kiss to her cheek. Volkova put an arm around his back, resting her cheek against his forehead with a gentle sigh. He didn’t know what Snape so disliked about her. For a decorated vampire killer and dangerous witch, she was rather soft and motherly. Harry decided he’d like more of that– being treated tenderly. 

"Think about my offer, will you?" she whispered.

Harry nodded, and pulled out of the hug. He heard her vanishing down the stairs as he turned to face the Pink Lady. Ron was waiting for him, as was Hermione. They had seen just enough to get the whole situation all wrong.


	25. Walking the Plank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: pirate alert

"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded.

"It’s pretty clear where he’s been," Ron said crankily. "I want to know what he’s been doing."

"Why are you wearing your Quidditch uniform?" Hermione puzzled.

"You waited up for me? How thoughtful," Harry smiled tiredly, walking through Ron and Hermione to get into the Common Room.

"We want some explanation, Harry. We’ve been pacing around since you left," Ron said.

"Shhh," Hermione cautioned. "Tell us what’s going on, Harry? We hate being left out of the loop as much as you do."

"Well, the long and short of it?" Harry questioned, unsnapping his gauntlets and beginning to undress as he climbed the stairs towards his bedroom. "When I arrived, Snape was talking to Lupin about a plan that is apparently going foul. He made mention of a capital crime against a wizard’s person."

"There are three capital crimes against a wizard. Use of the unforgivables. Use of illegal potions. Use of a wizard’s identity," Hermione said, "through means of the Polyjuice Potion. Er....um....next question?" She glossed over as quickly as she could when Ron stared at her.

"We committed a capital crime?" he whispered, covering his eyes briefly. "If my mum finds out, I’m doomed."

"We simply mustn’t tell her then," Hermione decided. 

"Given the involved parties, number two seems the most likely," Harry said, pulling off his shoes. 

"Lucius Malfoy is missing. Lupin is talking to Snape about a capital crime. Is it paranoid of me to suspect the two events are related?" Ron wanted to know.

"What did Snape say about the locket?" Hermione asked.

"It’s not jinxed, so far as he can tell, but he said he needed more time to study it."

"Why didn’t you take more time?"

"Volkova arrived and interrupted us."

"Interrupted you how?" Hermione wanted to know. 

"How did you start out going to Snape and wind up back here on Volkova’s arm? Sorry, in Volkova’s arms?" Ron corrected.

"She came to Snape’s office while I was there. She refused to leave without escorting me safely back to my dorms. Will it surprise you to learn she doesn’t want me to trust Severus Snape?"

"Will it surprise you to learn we agree?" Ron answered.

"What happened in Snape’s office? Your pupils are dilated, and you smell like you’ve been to a Deadhead concert," Hermione said.

"What kind of concert?" Ron asked.

"Never mind. It’s a Muggle thing," Hermione told him. Harry paused on the steps and turned around unsteadily.

"If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t repeat a word," he whispered, sitting down on the stairs. Ron sat beside him, and Hermione above.

"We’re all ears," Ron baited. 

"He was burning incense when I arrived. Munia, Volkova called it."

"Munia? That’s used to induce sleep and pleasant dreams in patients with severe insomnia and frequent nightmares," Hermione told him. "But the cultivation of the flower it’s derived from has to be strictly monitored, because certain wizards use Munia as a recreational hallucinogenic drug."

"Snape’s got drugs in his office?" Ron said, his eyes growing bright with curiosity.

"Continued use over many years can impair a wizard’s physical response time. Some believe it damages nerve endings and synaptic pathways. The ill effects can be passed on to the abuser’s children as well, or even impair their ability to have children."

"Oh," Ron sighed, completely discouraged.

"So, when you arrived, Snape was getting loaded on Munia. Then what?" Hermione asked impatiently. 

"I sat down on his couch and fell asleep almost at once."

"We’re waiting for the twist," Ron smiled.

"Skip to the part about the Quidditch clothes," Hermione nodded. Harry took a deep breath and quickly blurted his response.

"I had a Trelawney moment, and spunked on the couch."

"You what?" Ron hollered. 

"Shush!" Hermione hissed.

"It’s not my fault. He’s apparently shagged quite a few people on the damn thing. How was I supposed to know what I’d dream about? It seemed a perfectly-innocent divan, for Merlin’s sake."

"You spunked on Snape’s couch?" Ron tittered. "Ohmygod."

"Was he mad at you?" Hermione winced.

"No," Harry replied. "Strangely enough, he was very apologetic, gentle with me, actually. It was nice." Harry’s voice trailed off because Hermione was all but glaring at him. "What?" he asked. She didn’t answer.

"I can’t believe you spunked on his couch," Ron gasped, wiping the tears off his face.

"Oh, Ron. Grow up," Hermione chided. "Harry, it’s a phase. That’s all. When you finish puberty, if your clairvoyant ability is still there, it will have mellowed out."

"Will I have to go around sitting on new chairs until then?" he asked, wishing Ron would stop squealing giggles into his knees. 

"No. I don’t think so. But I wouldn’t recommend shopping second-hand, if you know what I mean. You had a vivid dream on the couch, and Snape magicked your uniform to you?"

"Yes."

"A vivid dream?" Ron squeaked. 

"What did he do with your other clothes?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Sent them to my hamper, he said," Harry replied.

"The house elves will get them tonight. Don’t worry," she soothed.

"All right. I wasn’t worried."

"Now, all we have to do is figure out how to get into Snape’s office and clean that couch, before Volkova manages to switch or swipe it," Hermione decided firmly, wheels turning in her head. 

"Come again?" Ron questioned. 

"RON!" Harry and Hermione wailed.

"Sorry. Inadvertent pun."

"Don’t take this the wrong way, Hermione, but why all the fuss?" Harry asked. 

"Since I read about the Gallahad Elixir. If Volkova uses your...whatever.... to make that, it could bond you to her, make it terribly hard to resist anything she asks you to do. You would be at her beck and call. You, Mr. Potter, off to bed and see what you can learn from Draco’s trinket. You, Mr. Weasley, quit grinning like a circus chimp and come along. We’ve got a couch to nick."

"I’m not touching it," Ron protested.

"I need your help, Ron. I can’t lift the bloody thing by myself."

"Snape has had sex on that couch who knows how many times. Harry very recently spunked it. I’m not touching that divan with a ten foot wand."

"Ron, there’s a little thing in the Muggle world called Luminol. I happen to have a vial of a wizard substitute in my Potions set. Would you like me to tell you about what it does?"

"No," Ron said as he followed Hermione down the stairs. "I don’t care what it does."

"We don’t have to steal the couch. We just have to clean it."

"I’m not touching it," Ron protested. Harry wound his way up the stairs and to his room, where he threw himself on the covers still clothed in the remains of his Quidditch clothes. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, his hand still clutching Malfoy’s locket.

***

The world came into focus around Harry very slowly, one piece at a time. The moon that had been glittering above his head dissolved into an overhead hanging torch. The sword he had been holding in his hand turned out to be his quill off his nightstand. The pirates he had been defending his virtue against on the wooden deck of a swaying ship turned into Snape, and Dumbledore, and McGonagall one by one. The swaying ship rocked violently beneath him. He couldn’t seem to balance his body, but that was because it clearly wasn’t his body, or was it?

"Harry? Harry? Give me your hand," Dumbledore called.

Harry swayed to and fro, balanced on the top edge of the highest staircase banister in the main junction of moving stairs, and said staircase was starting to change positions. 

"Harry? Give me your hand," Dumbledore called, naked panic in his voice.

McGonagall leapt across at Harry, changing mid air to her cat form. She balanced on the banister with him until she could jump to the flat of the stairs themselves, where she changed back into a human. Minerva quickly wrapped both arms around Harry and tugged him down off the banister and into her cloak. Harry was screaming in terror by this point. His quill fell out of his hand and over the side. Snape watched it float by, and felt as if he had aged ten years in the last ten minutes. Harry’s screams echoed in the hall.

"Alert Madam Pomfrey at once, Severus," Dumbledore ordered, going to the end of the stairs and making his way to where McGonagall and Harry were.

"It’s all right. It’s all right," Minerva repeated, rocking Harry to quiet his kicking and struggling. "I’m not going to hurt you."


	26. Both Halves Against the Middle

“Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said as Draco tentatively entered the Headmaster’s office. Professor Snape was already there, seated before Dumbledore’s desk as well. Severus looked as chastised as Draco felt. Malfoy slithered into a seat. Dumbledore produced the locket, laying it close enough on the desk for Draco to pick up.

"Oh," Malfoy said, collecting it carefully and putting it away.

"I want you to tell me why and when you gave this to Mr. Potter," Dumbledore ordered.

"Last night after dinner, in the hallway in front of the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Why?"

"My father is missing, and I hoped Potter would be able to help me find him."

"Did you in any way hex or curse or alter this locket before you gave it to him?"

"No, sir," Draco gulped. "Why would I?"

"Don’t patronize me, Mr. Malfoy. I’m in no mood," Albus warned. Draco lost his usual veneer of self-confidence.

"I wanted him to find my father. I wouldn’t have done a thing to jeopardize that."

"I am here to discern if you are telling the truth, Draco," Severus explained. "Do I need Veritaserum, or can I take you at your word?"

"My word, sir. I have not altered or spelled this locket in any way since I picked it up at Malfoy Manor this summer when I returned home from abroad. That’s when Father gave it to me."

"Gave it to you?" Dumbledore questioned.

"No, sir. Actually, I took it from my parents’ room while they were at dinner one night. They never missed it, and I never returned it."

"You have in no way affected this locket?" Snape asked.

"No, sir. I swear I haven’t."

"He’s telling the truth," Severus assured the Headmaster. Albus nodded in agreement. "Someone else must have put a spell on it. If I had taken more time to study it further before allowing Mr. Potter to proceed. You don’t know how sorry I am."

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy. What made you think Harry could help you find your father if you gave him this locket?" Dumbledore asked. 

"I found a letter from Professor Snape to my father, talking about a mutual acquaintance who was having precognitive dreams about me being in a coffin last summer."

"Where did you spend your summer, Mr. Malfoy?" the Headmaster continued. 

"Researching family history in France, in the crypt at Belle Font."

"How did you know it was Harry who had had the dreams?" Snape asked.

"I followed my nose. I know Father asked you to keep him informed about Potter’s comings and goings," Draco blurted, then cast a nervous look at Dumbledore. "He was concerned after last year that if Harry Potter wasn’t in his right mind, that if he were revealed to be in some way mentally unstable, that the wizarding world wouldn’t be safe if he was free. We can hardly put our faith in a raving lunatic, can we? Did my father curse the locket?"

"Why do you ask?" Snape wondered. 

"I heard Potter tried to throw himself off the staircase in the main hall, shouting about pirates and protecting his virtue."

"Did your father give you this locket and order you to put it on Harry’s person somehow?" Dumbledore wanted to know. 

"No, sir. Father doesn’t know I have the locket. I took it without his permission."

"But he knows you have a compulsion to lift shiny objects that belong to other people," Snape murmured. "I’m sorry, Draco, but I’m afraid he’s played you in this as much as the rest of us, and nearly succeeded in killing Mr. Potter."

"Not only that, he’s conveniently missing when we need him to answer what curse he’s placed on the locket in the first place," Dumbledore growled angrily. "You have no idea where he has gone?"

"No, sir," Draco shivered.

"If you hear anything from him, Mr. Malfoy, you will come to Professor Snape and myself, no matter the time of day or night."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"You may return to your class, Mr. Malfoy."

"Wait," Draco said, turning to Snape. "Pirates. Potter was dreaming about pirates. What does that have to do with the locket, or with my father?"

"Return to class, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore ordered. 

"The locket’s original owner was Marie de Boniface," Snape explained.

"That’s the M.B. on the back here? I thought it stood for the Malfoy-Black alliance." 

"Your father sent you to Belle Font to study family history. How far back did you get?"

"Not very. I got tired to spending all day in the crypts."

"How far?"

"Four generations," Draco admitted.

"Your father got this locket from his father, from his grandfather, from his great-grandfather, and so on. It has been in your family for several generations," Snape said. "Now that you know who the original owner was, and that her name was neither Malfoy nor Black, what does this lead you to suspect? Use your head."

"I’m not following you."

"What Professor Snape is attempting to tell you, Mr. Malfoy, is that the locket is in your possession because your ancestors were on the pirate ship that Marie de Boniface had the misfortune to encounter. They stole it from her."

"I’m descended from pirates?" Malfoy smirked. He didn’t look as horrified as Dumbledore had hoped he would.

"Look at the picture, boy," Dumbledore flared. "You are descended from pirates and from this poor woman! Do I have to get any more graphic, or will that suffice? Your family is the result of her captivity among a pack of vile, thieving beasts. And from what I’ve seen of you and of your father, I dare say you haven’t done much to improve yourselves in the last three hundred years. Out of my sight!"

"Headmaster," Severus chided as much as he dared. "Return to class, Mr. Malfoy. We’ll talk later."

"It’s not my fault," Draco said softly. "What happened to her?"

"Her picture is hanging in the Charms Hallway. You’ll know her when you see her," Severus replied. 

"Was she a powerful witch?"

"In her time, she was without peer," Snape smiled. "Go on now."

Draco practically scrambled from the room. Albus waited until the staircase slid back into its original position before he spoke.

"What are you going to tell him when he sees her name didn’t stay de Boniface?"

"He’ll get over it. It’s time he and Harry both knew."

"Severus, do you know where Lucius is?"

"I don’t know where, but I do know with whom."

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Remus Lupin has taken up the mantle of reckless, stupid Gryffindor that Sirius Black cast off with his untimely demise."

"More matter, less art, Severus."

"Remus Lupin has kidnapped Lucius Malfoy."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his eyes wide. 

"I must assume you didn’t command this of him?" Snape said, arching one brow. "I was mistaken. You didn't know about it either?"

"Remus kidnapped Lucius? I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed," Albus murmured. 

"Be afraid, because when Lucius escapes, and he will escape, there will be hell to pay."

"Why would Remus kidnap Lucius?"

"I haven’t the first clue, sir."

"Do you have any way to track where he might be holding Lucius?"

"Lupin did appear briefly in my floo last night, wanting help with a potion to keep Lucius in a dreamlike state for several weeks."

"And?"

"I told him no. He wanted me to recommend someone. I tried."

"Didn’t want Lucius to feel your hand in this, did you? Wise of you. How very Slytherin."

"Lucius would be less than understanding. Lupin flooed to my office. You are welcome to sniff his trail from there."

"Are you going to the hospital wing?"

"Yes," Severus answered.

"I’ll come with you. I’m anxious to have a look at Harry myself."


	27. Scurvy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: temporary body transfiguration of a certain and particular nature

Harry opened his eyes, biting back the rush of nausea his sea-faring dreams had left him with. Ron peered down into his face, and it took Harry several seconds to place who the freckled redhead was, and that he was not dangerous.

"Don’t panic," Ron whispered, putting a hand over Harry’s.

"The ship. Are we still on board?"

"Um, Harry, we’re at Hogwarts," Ron told him.

"I remember Hogwarts," Harry said woozily.

"You’ll probably want to lie very still, and wait till Madam Pomfrey comes back. She’s busy with the healing potions and counter-curses," Ron suggested.

"I was cursed?" Harry’s brain swam.

"It’s all right though. You’ve already had your revenge on Malfoy."

"What did he do, give me scurvy?" Harry laughed weakly. "My stomach hurts," he whispered, putting a hand down to his abdomen. "Nothing compared to my legs though. Ye gods."

"Do you remember what you dreamed?" Ron worried.

"Did you and Hermione nick Snape’s couch?" Harry wondered.

"Thanks to your smashing, clever diversion, we had plenty of time," Ron said. "We broke in his office and cleaned several stains off the couch. Snape is none the wiser, unless he notices it smells better." 

"You’re welcome," Harry moaned. He remembered the rolling of the deck of the ship. He had a sword in his hand. There was a full moon above. A man who looked like Lucius Malfoy, but with long, dark devilish hair was approaching him, trying to coax him off the railing of the ship. He had been between the devil and the deep blue sea. Apparently the devil won. "I feel really sick," Harry moaned, wondering why Ron was watching him so closely.

"Snape was here. You threw up on him when he tried to Legilimens you," Ron smirked. "You got him right in the lap."

"That’s disgusting," Harry whimpered.

"That’s not even the best part."

"It’s not?"

"Don’t be shocked, but you and Malfoy are cousins."

"We’re what?"

"Very distant cousins. He was screaming at Snape about it. Tore up a couple pictures in the Charms Hallway. Your great-great-great-etc-grandmother was his great-great-great-etc grandmother. She left France by sea and was kidnapped by pirates. It took her several years to escape them. But she finally settled in England, where she married a maker of clay bowls, one Hugh Potter."

"I’m going to be sick."

"That was pretty much Malfoy’s reaction too. He had a screaming hissy fit, locked himself in the Slytherin dorms, and refused to come out until Snape went and told him the whole story. Stay tuned for further developments."

"What happened to me? I feel like every bit of me’s been whacked and stomped on."

"Apparently, this woman who the locket belonged to put a curse on it, and you relived what she went through when Malfoy’s relatives kidnapped her. And that, mate, is the good news."

"Did he wake up yet?" Hermione asked, coming around the corner of the screen. 

"Yeah."

"Did you tell him what happened?"

"I’m trying to," Ron grinned. 

"I need to pee," Harry announced, moving to get out of the bed. 

"Uh oh," Hermione said. "Harry, can you wait until Madam Pomfrey comes back? She’s on the way."

"I’ll help him," Ron offered.

"You will not," Hermione said, taking Harry’s arm. Harry winced as he sat up. 

"Why am I so damned sore?" he asked, sliding a hand down between his legs. He screamed and lifted the loose shirt he wore in order to look underneath. "What in the HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!"

"You think it’s bad now. You should have been awake an hour ago. You had breasts then," Ron told him grimly. Hermione wrapped Harry’s clothes around him again and drew the covers up to his chin.

"Not to worry. Madam Pomfrey is changing you back."

"I’m a... I’m a....I’m a..."

"Frightful mess," Ron suggested.

"A work in progress," Hermione corrected. Harry peered down his shirt again. Everything looked pretty normal to his waist. That’s where the wide hips and blonde pubic hair began, followed by nothing familiar, which was exactly the problem!

"The locket turned you into your mutual ancestor with Malfoy," Ron said. Harry ran both hands down between his legs. "We thought at first it was Malfoy that cursed you, but it became pretty apparent that this particular curse was beyond Draco’s abilities. Beyond Lucius’s abilities too. She must have been one helluva Transfigurationist. Of course, that begs the question of why she was in the Charms Hallway, doesn't it?"

"If you’re going to keep groping yourself, I’m going to leave," Hermione threatened.

"He’s probably never been this close to one of those," Ron whispered. "Can’t you forgive him his curiosity?"

"It feels so weird," Harry said. Ron was trying not to crack up, because he knew Hermione would hit him if he laughed. "Does yours always hurt like this?" Harry asked her. 

"No," she said, simply livid with annoyance.

"Harry, you’re giving me the view again. Cover up, mate," Ron said.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "I feel weird. Not right at all. And I really need to pee."

"Come on," Ron said, putting out an arm.

"Not you," Harry recoiled, suddenly scared.

"Harry, it’s me," Ron laughed, shocked.

"Here," Hermione said, helping Harry carefully out of bed. "We’ll be right back."


	28. Hand in Glove

Harry was back to normal physically before the next morning at breakfast. He couldn’t get out of the hospital wing fast enough. Rumors had obviously been spread, because during breakfast, several curious students came by for a peek at him. He ignored them initially, but by the time even the first years were gawking, he wanted to get up on the table, take off his clothes, and prove to the ensemble that yes, he was a male again, and no, he did not have breasts. He was part way through eggs that were making him queasy when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Budge over, Longbottom," Malfoy barked.

"Bite me," Neville replied without looking up from his oatmeal. Harry wasn’t so distracted by his anger that he missed the wicked twinkle in Neville’s eyes.

"What do you want, Draco?" Ron asked from across the table. Hermione’s frown seconded the question. "Where’s your body guards?"

"I sent them in for a flea dip. Look, Potter, I need to talk to you."

Harry turned and gave Draco a stare that crackled with spite.

"I’ve nothing to say to you."

"I didn’t know the locket was cursed. It’s never done that to anyone else, so far as I know. You’re the only person that the curse has worked on in three hundred or more years. You can’t blame me for it."

"Can’t I?" Harry rasped.

"It can’t have been a pleasant experience. I’m sorry."

"No, it wasn’t. Fuck off, Malfoy, and have a nice day."

"You shouldn’t talk to family that way," Draco tested out a smile. "Can I sit?"

"The proper question, you bone-headed twit, is ‘May I sit?’."

"May I sit?" Draco asked. Harry gave Neville a gentle push, and he and Longbottom moved far enough apart to allow Malfoy a small spot to put his bottom.

"You have three minutes," Harry said, picking up his toast and taking a bite.

"You gave me five minutes last time. Tired of my company, are you?"

"Two minutes, 55 seconds."

"Having PMS today?" Draco grinned.

"Two minutes, 45 seconds."

"I heard you had great breasts," Draco whispered, bouncing his brows once.

"Two minutes, 35 seconds," Harry growled.

"Here’s your receipt," Draco said, giving Harry a piece of paper.

"For what?"

"My donation to St. Mungo’s in your name," Draco reminded him. "Our deal was that you would dream about the location of the owner of the locket, which you did. I made a very generous donation to the maternity ward," Draco purred.

"I’ll frame it," Harry said, shoving the scrap into his bookbag, but not before noticing that Draco had added an extra zero in a different color of ink. Dishonest, scum-sucking little thief. As Harry sat up straight, he felt Draco put a hand into the pocket of his robe. "A bit feely, aren’t we, Malfoy?" Harry said, trying not to flinch in horror at the touch of Malfoy’s hand to his side.

"Don’t take it out here," Draco whispered urgently. Under different circumstances, Harry might laughed out loud at this. But not today. He put his hand into his pocket as Draco stood up from the Gryffindor table. The smoothest velvet he’d ever felt in his life was inside, and it was cut in the shape of a hand.

"What is it?" he asked Draco.

"They have only ever belonged to my father. You have one, and I have the other. If the pair is cursed, we both will share in the misery."

"You want him to try again?" Ron gasped.

"My father is still missing, and Potter has more than proven himself capable of the task."

"You can’t be serious," Ron laughed.

"I’m dead serious," Malfoy said. Harry flinched, dropping his fork and choking. "Sorry. I don't know what you want from me, Potter. My father is in grave danger. I can feel it. I’ll do whatever it takes. I'm begging you. I need to find my father."

"How do you know he hasn’t wandered off for a meeting with the rest of his friends in black robes?" Hermione grouched bitterly. 

In reply, Draco pivoted towards the entrance. Professor Snape stood in the shadows by the door, adjusting his high, tight neckline. At his side, Dobby the house elf was bobbing along, talking to him. Snape handed Dobby a tiny black box, and Dobby nodded, grinning enthusiastically. Dobby disappeared in the direction of the dorms, and Snape smiled faintly before coming into the crowded breakfast area.

Harry understood what Draco was insinuating– if Snape was still around, there hadn’t been a meeting of the Death Eaters. The hairs on his neck prickled, and his scar dropped an icicle of pain through his face. Harry closed his right eye and rubbed his forehead. Draco knew Snape was a Death Eater. Did he also know Snape was a spy? If Draco did know Snape was leading a double life, and Snape was still alive, whose side was Draco on? Wait. Had he just wondered about where Draco Malfoy's loyalties resided? He needed to get his head examined in more ways than one!

"Do we have a deal?" Draco questioned.

"Harry, don’t do it," Ron warned.

"No, you’ll be safe this time," Hermione said. "Not even Draco is thick enough to hurt you twice in a row, are you, twit?"

"If anything happens to Harry, so help me, Draco, I’ll rip you limb from limb and feed you to the Thestrals," Ron growled.

"Do we have a deal, Potter?" Draco begged. 

"We have a deal, Malfoy, on two conditions," Harry replied.

"You wish is my command," Draco mocked.

"One is that you make another donation to St. Mungo’s."

"You want a wing in your name, or will a floor do?" Draco mused.

"Two is going to be a bit harder," Harry murmured. He scanned the instructors’ table as Professor Snape pulled out his chair. Snape lifted up the cushion, tested the legs, gave the chair a good bounce, and pronounced it in fair health before sitting down. Two chairs down, Volkova was trying to quell a devious smile. She looked up from her coffee, and found Harry in the crowd. Draco stood up perfectly straight, and their eyes met. Harry could almost feel the connection that ran between Volkova and Malfoy, a secret look that no one was supposed to ever see. 

"What’s your second condition, Potter?" Malfoy asked as he broke the connection with Volkova. She poured herself another cup of coffee, smiling down the table at Snape. Severus was lifting each dish at his setting and inspecting them one by one.

"I want you to steal Professor Volkova’s wand for me," Harry replied. Ron’s jaw dropped, and Hermione gasped.

"Her what?" Draco stammered. "If you want her wand, ask her for it."

"Not her everyday wand. I want her grandfather’s wand. Silver tip. Potion vial inside the handle. I’m sure you’ve seen it, Draco."

"Yes, but she never takes that out of her robes."

"How badly do you want your father back?" Harry questioned.

"It’s suicide. She’ll hex me into next March if I even touch it," Draco protested.

"If she never takes it out of her robes, all you have to do is figure out how to separate her from her robes," Harry suggested. Draco blushed, red on white.

"Am I under a specific time limit?" Malfoy asked, attempting to compose himself. Harry watched him with a chilling smile that made Draco uncomfortable.

"No. But when you succeed, I’ll tell you where your father is."

"You know where he is?"

"Not yet. But by the time you figure out how you’re going to take that wand from our Dark Arts instructor without getting your balls hexed off, I’m sure I’ll have a promising lead."

"You’re a real prick, you know that, Potter?" Draco muttered as he strode away. Harry picked up his pumpkin juice and emptied the glass. 

"That’s bloody brilliant, Harry," Ron said. "He’ll never get that wand away from her."

"Don’t be too sure. He is a Malfoy, after all," Hermione chimed in.

"Too right," Harry agreed.

"What are you going to do with her wand when you have it?" Neville wanted to know.

"I’m going to give it back," Harry shrugged. ‘After I test out this clairvoyant nonsense on it,’ he thought inside.


	29. Monsieur Le Clair

"Want to study in the library?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry answered sullenly.

"Want to study in the courtyard?" Ron suggested. "No one will see you there."

"It’s dark. How do you expect to read in the dark?" Hermione fussed. "What about the Common Room? We could go there."

"No," Harry growled. 

The three Gryffindors were plodding through the corridors at nine at night two days after Harry had thrown down the gauntlet of challenge to Malfoy about procuring Volkova’s wand for him. Malfoy had yet to produce, and had even come back to Harry asking him to name another price. Harry had refused. Hermione and Ron would expected this would have pleased Harry immensely. Instead, Harry was in a particularly foul mood. Of course, there was no mystery as to why.

"Harry, you can’t hide away in your dorm forever," Hermione said.

"Oh, yes I can."

"You barely spent fifteen minutes at dinner," Ron complained.

"Harry," Hermione said, taking his arm and stopping him in the hallway. "Professor McGonagall did not mean to embarrass you."

"How could she not have known I’d be embarrassed?!" Harry shouted. Ron pulled back to a safe distance.

"She didn’t do it to purposefully embarrass you," Hermione explained. 

"She used me and that bloody curse as a topic for class discussion!"

"It had everything to do with Transfigurations," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, it was very educational."

"She talked about what happened to my body! What happened to me! EDUCATIONAL!?" Harry shrieked. Hermione pulled back from him, clearly hurt by his tone. 

"Harry," Ron soothed.

"She drew pictures on the chalkboard!" Harry bawled.

"They were stick figures, mate," Ron smiled.

"But everyone was looking at ME!" 

"Harry," Hermione said, hoping to calm him. "It was an informative lesson on encapsulating transformation spells in everyday objects. It was very interesting. You’re the only one who wasn’t, forgive the expression, spell-bound. Even Crabbe and Goyle asked provocative questions."

Harry gave a half scream before he whirled away and stormed off in a furious huff. Hermione and Ron watched him, feeling totally helpless. Ron turned to Hermione, and she blinked at the floor.

"Don’t worry, 'Mione. He’ll get over it," Ron offered. "He gets moody this time of year."

"He’s been moody a lot lately, and mostly at us," Hermione said sadly.

"It’s almost Halloween again," Ron reminded her. "Terrible things have a way of springing on him this time of year. He’s pushing us away so we don’t get hurt, that’s what I think."

"We’re his friends," Hermione said, sounding small and hurt.

"He hasn’t heard from Lupin either," Ron added. "That’s also worrying him."

"Lupin is busy on a mission. He doesn’t have time for correspondence every day, no matter how much he’d like to write Harry," Hermione replied. "Let’s catch up with him before he locks himself somewhere and we can’t find him."

Meanwhile, two corridors away and counting, Harry was in the middle of finding a high corner of a distant tower to hole up in. He crossed a junction and found several perversely-dark hallways, and decided he was headed in the correct direction. He chose the hallway on the left, and promptly ran into a delay, or rather a delay ran into him. He landed on his backside in the hallway, seeing stars. When he caught his breath, he felt a small hand grasp his shirt.

"Hi, Malchik," he said. "Where’s the fire?"

Volkova’s house elf was pulling Harry to his feet. She was panting, her face bleached with fear. 

"Up! Up!" she squeaked, casting a terrified glance back down the hallway behind her.

"What’s the rush?" Harry wondered. Malchik heaved him to his feet and pushed him back the way he had come. When the torches in that hallway went dead too, she started to panic. She walked backwards at a fast clip, and stopped at the junction. Digging into her cloak pocket, she threw several small glass shards to the floor. Holding her hand over one, she chanted magic under her breath. A blue wall sprang up between them and the corridor from which she had fled. Still panting, Malchik took Harry’s hand.

"I must find the Mistress," Malchik blurted. "Have you seen her?"

"She’s probably in her office," Harry offered. "I thought you were in Italy."

"No time! We must hurry!"

"Malchik, what’s the matter? AHHHH!" Harry screamed, falling back to his knees as an icicle of pain went through his head. He faltered, unable to rise. He gazed back at the barrier Malchik had erected. The pale man from the forest was standing there, trying to force his way through the house elf’s magic barrier. Using his hand as a ram, he focused his red-lighted magic forward at one point, and he was slowly bending a patch through the pale blue with crackles and jolts.

"Must get the Mistress! Must get the Mistress!" Malchik quivered. 

"Malchik? What is he?" Harry asked as he pointed. 

"ВАМПИР!" Malchik screamed. Harry didn’t need a translation. The Russian word was close enough for him to get it.

"Vampire?" he repeated. "Bloody hell."

"Master!" Malchik screamed, taking his arm and trying to pull him up. He covered his right eye with his hand and stumbled to his feet. Another stab of pain went through his head, and Harry went flat against the ground, moaning in pain. Ron and Hermione came around the corner, but Malchik was quicker. She threw down more blue shards, and another barrier sprang up, this time between Harry and his friends. 

"Let us through!!" Ron yelled at Malchik.

"Get the Mistress! Bring her here! QUICKLY!!" Malchik commanded. Hermione took off but Ron stayed where he was. He took out his wand and tried to burn his way through the house elf’s magic from his end. Malchik drew a piece of blue chalk out of her pocket, and began to scribble runic letters on the floor in a circle around Harry. Out of one eye, Harry watched her. He had seen those letters before, but where??

"What are you doing?!" Ron shouted at her. "Let me through here!"

Down behind Harry and Malchik, the force field was bending, warping around itself. The man with red eyes wormed his way through the opening as if he were made of bendable rubber. Harry understood, even while hearing Ron have an absolute screaming panic attack on the other side of his barrier, that Malchik had blocked his friends out to protect them. The man with red eyes raced down the corridor, his attention fixed squarely on Harry. He was halfway to his destination when Malchik pushed Harry’s arm inside her circle and drew the last letter. Instantly, an orb of magic threw itself up around him, and Malchik fled in the other direction. Howling with fury, the creature reached after the house elf, and snatched her into the air. Malchik’s screaming filled the corridor.

"Open the circle," the man growled at her, holding her aloft by her hair. Malchik’s only response was more screaming and a punctuation of violent kicks and scratches aimed at the vampire. She dropped the chalk to the ground and the vampire stamped it into dust. "Open the circle, damn you," he cursed, his English traced heavily with a French accent.

"The Mistress will be here soon. She’ll stop you! She’ll kill you!" the house elf squeaked. The creature howled again, shaking her wildly.

"You let her alone!" Harry demanded, getting to his feet as best he could. "I said drop her! You heard me! Drop her!" 

The mysterious circle expanded with Potter vertically, but not horizontally, which meant he could stand, but he could not lunge forward. Screaming was the only way he could force his presence towards the man, because he couldn’t get out of the circle physically. Unfortunately, the screaming was also making Harry’s head pound. The man threw Malchik roughly to the ground in a heap, and whirled on Harry. He traced his nails along the circle that protected the boy, and sparks glittered, giving off dim light. 

"Tell Volkova I am here for her," the stranger said to Harry, gazing deeply into his face. Harry understood the vampire was trying to charisma him again, but somehow the spell wouldn’t penetrate Malchik’s magic. Harry made a mental note to thank her, and to ask her to teach him the runic spell.

"Why should I?" Harry retorted. 

Looking terribly stunned to have someone talk back at him, the man wormed his way right against the circle, staring down into it as he licked his lips with a black tongue. Malchik groaned groggily and shuddered. Harry strained to see if she was hurt. From where he stood, he could tell she had a cut on her forehead, but she was alive. 

"Such a spirit you have," the vampire chuckled. "I chased her all the way from Venice, knowing she would lead me to Volkova. She is only alive now because I needed her to guide me." 

"Does it make you feel powerful? Picking on tiny little house elves?!" Harry growled angrily. The man glanced at the fallen house elf, and a sorrowful expression briefly took his eyes. "You better clear off before Professor Dumbledore turns on the hall lights," Harry warned him. 

"Tell Volkova that Le Clair is here for her," the man repeated. "Tell her that if she surrenders to me, I will leave you unharmed."

"You want me?! Why don’t you get through here and get me? Eh? What’s the matter? A little bit of house elf magic too much for you??" Harry taunted.

"Harry, shut up," Ron gulped, terrified. Harry jolted backwards in surprise as the vampire rammed his hand through the shield. Ron screamed, and Harry went for his wand. Talon-like fingers reached for Harry, dripping blood from several cuts. The man laughed venomously as Harry shivered and dropped to his knees. 

"LUMOS!" Harry shouted. The daylight-intense brightness from Harry’s wand filled the circle but remained inside the confines of Malchik's magic. The vampire’s hand began to smoke. He yanked it quickly out of the circle once more, favoring his wounds in the darkness outside Harry's protected space. 

"Au revoir, petit chèr," the man chuckled, rubbing his smoldering limb. He bowed deeply to Harry before vanishing away into the corridor. It was as if he had never been there. Surely Harry hadn't imagined him. No. The expression on Ron's face confirmed that the vampire had not been a hallucination of Harry's wild imagination. Potter put away his wand with trembling hands. 

A virtual stampede of feet came wheeling around the corners. Dumbledore appeared on Ron’s side of the barrier with McGonagall and Hermione in hot pursuit. Volkova and Snape were racing up the hallway on Harry’s side. Volkova disintegrated Malchik’s barrier with a flick of her wand by scattering the shards Malchik had strewn on the ground. Snape put both hands on the still-sizzling circle that enveloped Harry. 

"Are you injured?" Severus heaved. 

"No," Harry said. "But Malchik got tossed around. Can’t you help her? She’s hurt," he pleaded. Volkova knelt down and scooped Malchik up like a small child. The house elf began sobbing on Volkova’s shoulder. "You should have seen her. She was really something," Harry commended. 

"My brave Malchik," Anna cooed softly. "Papa would be so proud of you," she whispered. Malchik sobbed louder in response. 

"Did you see who it was?" Snape wanted to know.

"The one from the forest. He said his name was Le Clair," Harry replied, panting.

"You spoke with him?" Volkova was astonished.

"Spoke?" Ron called. "Harry was egging him on," he chided. 

"What did he say?" Snape wanted to know.

"He said," Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart. "He said to tell Professor Volkova that he is here for her. He followed Malchik all the way from Venice."

"He said if Professor Volkova surrenders to him, he’ll leave Harry alone," Ron told them. Harry shot him a dirty look. "That’s what he said, Harry," Ron added. 

"Can you get me out of here?" Harry asked Snape, motioning to the circle. Snape made a face that indicated he hadn’t seen this type of magic before. 

"It unlocks from the inside," Dumbledore said as he stepped through Ron’s barrier, pulling the magic shards up into his hand. The torches in the hallway grew intensely bright.

"What?" Harry said. 

"Smear the letters, and you’ll be able to get through," Albus said. 

"Oh, wait! Wait! Please," Snape pleaded. Harry paused, puzzled. Snape walked all the way around the circle once, and a second time. "All right. Go ahead," he nodded to Harry. Potter ran a hand along the chalk letters, and as his skin absorbed the dust, the barrier began to crumble. Snape put his fingers through the hole Harry had created, and smoothed more letters away. Little by little, they managed to free Harry from his safebox.

"So you’re going to surrender yourself to Le Clair as quickly as possible, aren’t you?" Ron pressured Volkova. She cradled Malchik against her chest, and nodded.

"Of course I am," she replied. Malchik wailed loudly.

"No, you are not," Dumbledore’s voice echoed in the hallway. "You and this Le Clair fellow are going to sit down and communicate like rational adults, and we’ll get to the bottom of this at once.

"It’s no use, sir," Volkova said. "I won’t endanger the students to protect myself." Snape rolled his eyes at her as Harry rubbed his blue-chalk covered hands together. Sparks glittered on the surface of his palms.

"I’ve seen those letters before," he whispered. Only Snape heard him. He stared down at his own hands, and back at Harry’s.

"A spell on the chalk? A spell or a potion? I don’t know. But I’d love to investigate further," Snape whispered. 

"He stomped the chalk over there," Harry pointed. Snape’s eyes lit up happily, and he worked his way carefully that direction.

"Professor Volkova, you and I are going to go to my office and discuss this," Dumbledore said to Anna. "Professor McGonagall, you will escort your students back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Of course, Headmaster," Minerva replied. It was clear she had wanted something a bit more exciting to do than escort children around the school.

"In the meantime, Professor Snape is going to comb this wing of the castle and find out how Le Clair got through the wards."

"Understood, sir," Snape said, taking a peek at the pile of chalk dust. He put his foot over it and tried to look inconspicuous about it.

"When you find out how he did it, you will come report to me in my office."

"At once, sir," Severus agreed. McGonagall patted Harry on the arm, and tried to usher him away. He watched Malchik until Dumbledore and Volkova were out of sight.


	30. In Gryffindor Tower

"She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?" Harry asked Professor McGonagall. He was staring down over the railing of the staircase as they climbed upwards. 

"I’m sure Professor Volkova’s house elf will be fine," Minerva assured him. "The question is if you are all right."

"I’m light-headed, but I think that’s from having my scar go atomic on me several times." Harry rubbed his aching head. 

"Yes. You've had a very exciting evening. Perhaps we should take you to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No!" Harry insisted, taking a step back from her. "Really. It’s a headache. I’ll be fine."

"I expect you’ll survive at least long enough to complete your Transfigurations homework," McGonagall nodded. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, and wondered if he had seen a smirk on her mouth, if only for a second or two. 

"Professor, you would have been impressed with Malchik. We should make her an honorary Gryffindor," Harry suggested. This won a small smile from McGonagall. Hermione was grinning proudly at him.

"I’ll see what I can do," the Deputy Headmistress murmured tiredly.

"All Malchik did was scream really loudly," Ron sort of laughed, casting a nervous glance at Harry. Hermione immediately frowned at Ron, and he knew he’d stepped in it this time. 

"She was braver than me," Harry said, "braver than a lot of people would have been. Le Clair had to work very hard to penetrate her shield magic," Harry added, amazed. "He worked his way through the barriers, but he hurt himself getting through the circle. He was trying to charisma me again. I mean, I know house elves have strong magic, but she didn’t need a wand. And those letters," Harry added, staring down at the blue chalk on his hands. He could mentally picture several of the runic letters in his head. "I know I’ve seen some of them before. I wonder what Snape will do when he figures them out."

"I’m impressed that Volkova taught Malchik how to read and write," Hermione said from up ahead on the stairs.

"Has it at all occurred to you two that she taught the house elf how to read and write and do magic vampires cannot penetrate because Malchik has helped her with her OTHER job?" Ron said crossly.

"I don’t care," Harry said. "She saved my life, and your life too. Or had you forgotten who put up that barrier between you and Le Clair?"

"I hadn’t forgotten," Ron said grimly. 

"That’s enough bickering," McGonagall said. They entered the Gryffindor Common Room after passing through the Pink Lady’s painting portal. 

"Professor, what do you think the Headmaster will do about Le Clair?" Hermione asked seriously. 

"The Headmaster will do what he feels is best, I’m sure," McGonagall said to pacify Hermione as she ushered the children up the stairs towards their respective dorms.

"Good night," Harry murmured from the top of the overlook. McGonagall smiled faintly, waving them on towards their beds. Harry waited until he had heard the Pink Lady’s portrait close. He opened the door to the boys’ dorm, and found Hermione was waiting outside. 

"Where’s Ron?" Hermione asked. Harry pointed over his shoulder into the boys’ dorm. 

"He’s changing. Be out in a second."

"Newt?" Hermione asked after the door closed. 

"Jackass," Harry gave a half-grin. Hermione stifled a giggle, and quickly slapped Harry’s arm. "Unfair. I apologize."

"He’s never going to change his mind about house elves as equals. There’s no point in trying to convince him at this late date," Hermione said. 

"What did I miss?" Ron asked, opening the door.

"Nothing," Hermione lied. Harry disappeared inside to change. "At least he’s not yelling at us any longer," she added to Ron about Harry. Weasley nodded sideways. "What?"

"I dunno. He’s been too tense for it all to go away at once. We need to be careful with him."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Hermione quipped. 

Harry returned, still dressed in his day clothes, and carrying a long cylindrical bundle wrapped in brown paper. He twirled it around his fingers carefully.

"What’s that?" Ron asked.

"Dunno. It was on my bed," Harry said.

"Is it a wand?" Hermione asked.

"Either that or Harry’s been getting mail catalogs from Adult Wiccan Wonders," Ron laughed. Harry quickly tore off the paper, and found Volkova’s heirloom wand in his hand. 

"It’s THE wand!" Hermione exclaimed. 

"Ohmygod," Ron stammered. "Malfoy did it."

"Unbelievable," Harry agreed. They all stared at it for a moment in awe. And the moment passed quicker than one might have thought.

"So now what?" Ron asked. 

"Professor Volkova will be distracted for a few hours. We’ve got work to do," Harry announced. 

"What are we doing, exactly?" Ron wanted to know.

"To begin with, I need a vial," Harry said, twisting down the cap of the wand. 

"Shouldn’t we do this somewhere a bit more private?" Hermione suggested. Harry looked side to side, and nodded.

"Yeah, probably."

Minutes later, they were back down in the Common Room, in the darkest corner, huddled under a table. Draped over the table was Harry’s invisibility cloak. It was rather a tight squeeze for six long legs and two sets of broadening shoulders. 

"Hold the vial steady. I don’t want to waste a drop," Harry said. Hermione leveled the glass objects together, and Harry tipped up. The greenish liquid splashed from the tip of Volkova’s wand into the waiting vessel. Hermione quickly capped her vial and stared at it in the dim light of the fireplace.

"Okay. We have the potion. What do we do with it?" Ron wanted to know.

"We get someone to test it and see if it is the Gallahad Elixir," Harry said simply. Hermione handed him the vial, and he secreted it inside his robe. 

"Who might that someone be???" Ron asked. Harry and Hermione stared at him blandly. "You’re going to ask Snape to test it, aren’t you?"

"Yes. I am," Harry nodded. "He told me I could come to him if the situation warranted his attention. He is the Potions Master. This is a potion."

"Why do I ask these questions?" Ron wondered, throwing up his hands.

"What? You want me to ask Flitwick?" Harry grinned.

"How exactly are you going to explain the way you came by this?" Ron demanded.

"This may necessitate a drastic approach."

"That being?"

"If he asks, I’ll tell him the truth," Harry decided.

"What are you going to do with that?" Hermione asked. Harry leveled the wand on his hand and balanced it on his fingers. 

"After I’m done finding out what I can find out, I’m going to slip it back into Volkova’s robes," Harry said.

"What? Excuse me!" Ron bellowed. "We’re going to give her back the empty wand, and she’s not going to ask us how we got it? Or where the potion went?"

"The idea is to give it back without her knowing we’re giving it back to her," Hermione said.

"How do we do that?" Ron said. "Ah! Shh! Feet!"

Small toes were visible outside their invisible covering. A soft giggle sounded. Harry bent down and to the side, and came nose to nose with Dobby.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Harry Potter," the house elf said, lifting the rim of the cloak only far enough to make out Harry’s face. 

"Hi, Dobby," Harry smiled. "We were...um...we were...."

"Dobby couldn’t help but overhear, sir."

"How much did you overhear?"

"Quite a bit," Dobby admitted sheepishly. 

Harry rolled out from under the cloak and spread it out on the floor, sitting on top of it. Ron and Hermione were cringing back under the table.

"The truth of it is, Dobby, we’re in a bit of a fix," Harry said. Ron and Hermione slowly pulled themselves out from under the table, and climbed into the chairs around it. 

"Is there a way Dobby can help you, Harry Potter?" the house elf asked anxiously.

"Could you give this back to Professor Volkova in the morning?" Harry said casually, showing him the wand.

"Of course Dobby could," the house elf beamed. 

"I found it on my bed," Harry quickly added.

"Dobby knows that, sir. He put it there."

"You put it there? Where did you get it?"

"From Little Master Malfoy. He didn’t even pinch me."

"Draco gave it to you?" Harry chuckled. "Too scared to give it to me himself?"

"He didn’t know the password to get through the portal," Dobby explained. 

"That was nice of you, Dobby," Harry said, patting his arm. 

"Dobby has to tell you, Harry Potter, that there’s talk among the kitchen elves about what happened tonight in Hogwarts."

"You heard, eh?"

"We didn’t need to hear. We felt it," Dobby insisted.

"Malchik’s not supposed to be doing magic?" Hermione asked.

"She can do magic." The house elf squirmed in his place. "Not so much though. Not in front of impressionable young wizards." Dobby smiled meekly at Harry.

Harry looked down at his hands, where the blue chalk still lingered. As he was staring at his hands, he caught sight of the edge of the invisibility cloak. Harry threw himself flat on the floor and gaped at the cloak, inside out on the stones.

"Malchik’s runes," he stammered. 

"What’s that?" Ron asked.

"These are the runes that Malchik drew," Harry laughed, pointing around the circle of the hem of the cloak. Dobby stared down at the cloak and shook his head.

"She was writing in front of you? Oh no."

"That’s bad?" Harry asked.

"Oh," Dobby fretted, drawing out the syllable. "Dobby’s not saying, Harry Potter. But you mustn’t mention it to the other elves."

"I won’t say a word," Harry promised. "What are these runes? Do you know them, Dobby?"

"Oh, no," the house elf trembled. "Me, reading and writing? No. Not for Dobby, sir."

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side, and smiled at Dobby. He leaned forward and sniffed at Dobby as he drew the invisibility cloak up into his arms.

"Dobby, you’re fibbing."

"Me, sir? Dobby would never fib to you."

Harry sniffed again, and smiled more widely. Dobby gingerly pushed him back.

"All right. You don’t have to tell me. That’s all right. But if you happen to see a book in the library with a translation for these runes, you could direct me to it, couldn’t you? Or you could direct Hermione?" Harry said hopefully.

"I dare say, if it’s in the library, she’s already seen it," Ron interjected. Harry handed Hermione the invisibility cloak. 

"Dobby could bring you a book, sir."

"Bring it to me instead, please," Hermione said, folding the cloak neatly in upon itself. 

"You’re a prince among house elves, Dobby," Harry said. "If you ever need anything, you can ask me for favors too, you know."

"Well, there is one thing, sir," Dobby began, then shook his head.

"Yes? What? Anything," Harry insisted.

"Dobby heard what you said to Professor McGonagall about making Malchik an honorary Gryffindor."

"You overheard that?"

"We are the eyes and ears of the castle, Mr. Harry Potter," Dobby said as he bowed humbly.

"And?" Harry asked.

"Dobby was going to suggest, sir, that one of your ties might be seen as a sensible gesture."

Harry reached up and loosened the knot, pulling the scarlet and gold tie off over his head.

"You’ll see Malchik gets it?"

"She’ll have it right away," Dobby promised. He held out his fingers, and Dobby quickly snatched up the offering. 

"Have you talked to Malchik privately at all?" Harry asked.

"When she comes to the kitchens with food requests for her Mistress," Dobby nodded. "She’s very nervous, but that’s not uncommon among house elves, sir."

"How do you think Professor Volkova treats her?"

"Very well, sir. I’ve seen the Professor’s rooms," Dobby said. Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Everything the Mistress has, she sees that her house elf has. Books and clothes and all kinds of finery. Magic things as well. She’s got a trunk full of them. An elf-sized trunk. You cannot repeat this, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, of course, I understand," Harry nodded. "I don’t want to get Malchik in trouble. She saved my life, you know. You and she have a lot in common."

"Yes, I guess we do," Dobby smiled back. 

"You’re not going to bawl her out for writing in front of me, are you?"

"Never, sir."

Dobby quickly fled before Harry could say anything else. Harry watched him go, and turned when Ron cleared his throat.

"Not to interrupt, but I think you should know."

"What?" Harry asked.

"We could be walking into a trap," Ron said.

"How do you figure?"

"What if Draco didn’t take the wand from Volkova, but she gave it to him to give to you, knowing you would want to sample the potion inside it?" Ron said. 

"That’s a possibility," Harry admitted.

"What if she fixed it to blow up on whoever tries to tamper with it?" Hermione said. 

"I’ll tell Professor Snape to be very careful when he’s handling it."

"Are you going to take it to him now?" Ron asked. 

"No," Harry replied, climbing up off the cold floor and into the cushions of the nearest couch. "I’m going to go to bed now. I’ll give Snape the potion in the morning."

"You’re going to sleep right there?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Harry said, rolling onto his back and tossing his limbs out in all directions.

"You know that problem you’ve been having with couches and lockets?" Ron said.

"Yeah?" Harry mumbled.

"Maybe that couch isn’t such a good place to nap," Hermione said bluntly. Harry sat quickly upright.

"Why would that be?" he asked devilishly. He ran a hand over the middle cushion, closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, extremely nervous.

"Nothing," Harry said, a half-smile playing with his face. 

"Harry, stop it," Ron said.

"What? I’m not doing anything," Harry protested. Ron took his arm and pulled him off the couch. "Spoil sport," Harry grumbled.

"You’re going to sleep with Draco’s glove, right?" Hermione said, following the boys upstairs once more. "Volkova’s wand can wait until tomorrow morning before breakfast. We need to learn all we can from Draco’s glove tonight."

"It’s not Draco’s glove. It’s Lucius’s glove. Otherwise, what would be the point? We know where Draco is, don’t we? Well?" Ron corrected her. After all, how often did he get the chance??

"More’s the pity we can’t lose them both," Harry said sleepily as he handed Volkova’s wand to Hermione. "Put that in a safe place, will you please?"

"We need to find Lucius before he comes to harm," Hermione said.

"I dunno. It’s Lucius Malfoy. He could do with a bit of harming," Ron put in.

***

"Harry, are you asleep yet?" Ron whispered. Harry was balled up under the covers with Malfoy’s glove on his hand, wishing desperately for more privacy than the dorm rooms allowed. He was wide awake because all he could think about was how good this glove would feel if he rubbed it over various parts of his anatomy. The sound of Ron’s voice reminded him of exactly how un-alone he was.

"No," Harry answered softly. The patter of bare feet and the swish of curtains told him he was about to have company. Ron pushed his way onto the left side of Harry’s bed, under the covers, directly against his back. After several seconds of uncomfortable quiet, Harry cleared his throat and asked, "Ron? Is there a reason for this moment of togetherness?"

"Are you having any luck with the glove?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry told him.

"Can’t sleep?"

"No."

"Too nervous because of last time?" 

"Partly," Harry lied.

"I can’t sleep either."

"And now, we’re not sleeping together, even though we’re in the same bed," Harry said. Ron laughed quietly, and the touch of his breath down Harry’s neck was making the problem in Harry’s shorts only increase.

"Harry, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for the longest time," Ron murmured. Harry hoped the extreme darkness covered the fact he was just this side of smacking his dearest friend and pushing him out of the bed onto the cold floor. Harry gritted his teeth, and swallowed his anger. 

"No time like the present."

"I guess you’ve noticed that Hermione and I haven’t been getting along, and wondered why."

"I noticed," Harry said grimly. "But I haven’t wondered."

"I haven’t been completely honest with you about last summer."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Are you about to tell me you slept with Hermione?"

"You are psychic!" Ron exclaimed as loudly as one can in a whisper.

"I’m not psychic," Harry said, exasperated.

"How did you know? Neither of us told anyone. We were too afraid."

"I guessed when you both knew the answer to my ‘do you lose your magic if you’re not a virgin’ question. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to do the math on that one."

"Oh," Ron said. He was quiet for several seconds. Harry hoped against hope he had fallen asleep. No such luck. "Harry, the truth is, it was terribly unpleasant for both of us."

"That’s lovely," Harry muttered.

"What I’m saying is, if you’re mad about her and me, you’re not missing anything."

"Ron?"

"What?"

"That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m not interested in Hermione."

"You don’t have to be so sharp. I’m trying to make you feel better."

"Do you really want to make me feel better?"

"Of course I do."

"Stop breathing on my neck like that. I’m going to spunk on the sheets."

Ron squelched a laugh in the pillow, and pulled a few inches away from Harry’s neck.

"Why was it horrible?" Harry hated himself for asking, but he did want to know.

"Why do you think?" Ron replied.

"I dunno. That’s why I’m asking."

"She was being Hermione, that’s why. ‘Not there, there.’ ‘Don’t do that. Do this.’ I showed up at her parents’ house while they were out having dinner and she was home. I was thinking we’d be having a romantic date in. She was all prepared. She had written notes and diagrams and...are you laughing over there?"

"No," Harry squeaked, holding his breath. 

"I can feel the bed shaking, Harry. You’d better be laughing."

"I’m laughing," Harry admitted. Ron slapped his shoulder roughly. 

"I felt like a new broom she was taking for a test drive," Weasley complained. "The whole evening was horribly, utterly wrong. We parted without even a proper goodbye, long before her parents got back. Then the first thing she tells me when we’re all back at Hogwarts is that she went out to dinner with Oliver Wood? What was I supposed to think?"

"Did she take Oliver for a test drive too?" Harry asked. The accompanying mental images weren’t half bad, at least the part about Oliver. Now Harry started to worry. "Ron, what made you believe Hermione was going to be different in bed than she is out of bed?"

"I dunno. I thought she’d be softer, that’s all."

"You can be just friends with her, you know."

"What?"

"You don’t have to date. You don’t have to sleep together. You can be friends with Hermione, and it would be all right," Harry said.

"What would be the point of that?"

"Strictly from my point of view, it might be the healthiest thing for both of you to see other people and forget about dating each other. You and she aren’t going to work as a couple, unless you want to spend the rest of your life being ordered around."

"She might soften around the edges as the years wear on."

"Ron, you know how much I love Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"I would never, not in a million years, date Hermione. Nor she me."

"No?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Ohbelievemepositive," Harry blurted. Ron was quiet again. Harry had his fingers crossed, but his luck didn’t pan out.

"Your turn."

"My turn what?" Harry gulped.

"I told you something horribly, painfully personal. You have to share now."

"Ron, I don’t want to do this."

"Come on. Out with it. Tell me your darkest dirtiest secret. I won’t be offended if it involves Professor Volkova in many and varying positions."

"Ron, I don’t want to do this, honestly."

"You’re afraid you’ll shock me. Don’t be afraid. I don’t shock easily."

"Ron, quit poking me in the back."

"Harry Potter, tell me your deepest darkest secret," Ron persuaded.

"Are you sure?"

"Go on. Scare me."

"I....I...."

"Harry, don’t be shy," Ron laughed, tracing his neck with one finger. 

"Ron, what if Draco’s right?"

"Right about what?"

"What if I am a double agent?"

"You mean against Voldemort? I’d say next to impossible, as you’re the focus of his evil murderous schemes. Sorta defeats the purpose, don’t you find?"

"Um, no, not against Voldemort."

Ron got quiet again, and Harry started to worry he shouldn’t have said anything.

"Well," Ron said slowly. "This means I’m not undressing in front of you anymore." Weasley squelched another giggle in the pillow, and Harry relaxed slightly. "Harry, don’t worry. Everyone goes through that stage where they wonder about that."

"You did?"

"Course I did."

"I never noticed you staring at my butt or anything. What happened?"

"I dreamed about Neville, and nearly laughed myself to death at the idea of it, and decided it wasn’t for me. I swear to Merlin I’ll kill you if you tell Neville I said that."

"Neville?" Harry snorted. "God, and I thought the mental image of you and Hermione was going to scar me for life."

"Sod off," Ron grumbled.

"Neville’s a great bloke, but I’ve never considered him in quite that way."

"I should have never told you," Ron decided.

"I’ve got nothing to worry about then?"

"No."

"What if I am a double agent?"

"You’ve still got nothing to worry about," Ron assured him. Harry relaxed a little more. "Harry, you aren’t going to tell Neville, are you?"

"No," Harry squeaked. "Go back to bed," he added quietly.

"You want me to sleep with you?"

"Ron, I’m fond of you, but somehow I don’t think that would be any more fun than you and Hermione."

"I meant I could stay here while you sleep, make sure you don’t sprout boobs or anything."

"No. But thanks for the offer."

"Not a word to Neville."

"I’ve already forgotten what you said," Harry promised.


	31. The Charm Repeller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: heavy flirting, outright advances, and ill-advised acrobatics!

"Mr. Potter?" Severus whispered the words and waited. He crept closer. "Potter?" When he received no response, he stood next to the boy and repeated himself loudly. "POTTER!"

Harry jumped at the sound of the voice much too loud to be in the library as they were hushed on all sides by Mrs. Pince and several studying students. In the process of jumping up, Harry lost his grip on the book that had been in his lap, dropped his quill, upset his ink well down his pant leg, and not to mention that, loosened a sheaf of parchment upon the floor. Cursing to himself, Harry knelt down to retrieve his book and parchments, realizing suddenly that there were large black shoes standing under the sheets of paper. He followed the toes up to the legs and so on, and at the exact top of the black-clad figure, he found a frowning Potions Master. It was the same Potions Master he had spent the last few hours of the night dreaming about being locked in the Slytherin bathroom with– the very Potions Master who, in the guise of a younger self, had done things to Harry that not even the most creative of dirty minds could have considered possible, let alone the supremely-creative but only-marginally-dirty mind Harry possessed. The idea of what he had dreamed coursed through Harry, and it made him hungry and embarrassed at once. 

After several seconds of silence from a young man who usually couldn’t shut his trap, Snape was wondering many things at this point, but foremost of which was what was causing Potter to blink up at him with those great big eyes of his. 

"Potter?" he grumbled.

"Yes, sir?"

"What were you so entranced with?" Snape asked, using his wand to make the ink stain on Harry’s leg vanish. Severus scooped up the book out of Harry’s hand. "Hmmm. Dream symbolism. Why not go rattle Trelawney’s cage if you want a dream interpreted? That is why we keep her around, isn’t it?"

Harry ducked, shaking his head as he went pink.

"Too personal," he whispered, taking the book back from Snape’s extended hand.

"Why weren’t you in Potions class this morning? Mr. Weasley told me you were ill with a headache."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, eyes on the floor. At least Ron hadn’t told Snape how Harry got the headache– from falling out of bed, all tangled in his covers, feeling stickier than the floor of Honeyduke’s after the Saturday afternoon rush.

"Is your headache gone, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"Why was Mr. Weasley grinning at me all morning?" 

"I don’t know, sir." Another falsehood. Harry had been moaning Snape’s name when he awoke, and Ron hadn’t stopped laughing about it yet, he imagined. ‘Sev, Sev, Sev,’ Ron had teased while getting ready for class. 'I have to get me a couch like that.' Harry had sat slumped in his chair, hiding his face, and wishing to all the gods he hadn’t mentioned that double agent nonsense to Ron. 

"Why aren’t you in your afternoon class?" Snape wanted to know. 

"Professor McGonagall reduced my schedule. Took me out of Muggle Studies."

"You’re free at the moment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Snape smiled slowly, and Harry found that rather unnerving. "I have a task for you. It’s been on the Odd Jobs Board for two days, but no one has bitten the offer. Not even the usual obsequious Slytherins. I surmised today that you were the perfect person for the job. It’s worth twenty points, or one dose of a potion of your choice."

The mention of potion made Harry remember the vial he was carrying in his trouser pocket, and the fact that he wanted to give it to Snape. He reached into his pocket and fingered the vial.

"Why approach me about an odd job? Because I’m odd?"

"No. It involves getting something out of a high, tight space into which I cannot fit myself."

"Why am I perfect for it?" Harry wanted to know.

"Because you are high and tight," Severus made the mistake of saying. Harry went scarlet as Gryffindor Quidditch robes. When the studying students and Mrs. Pince gaped at them, Snape realized his mistake. He became fiercely angry, mostly with himself. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. What I need is someone lithe, thin, and easy to lift. I suspect because you are underfed and shaped like a rail, you will be light enough you won’t throw my back out of place. Come with me. It’s easier if I show you."

Harry began to gather his things, but Snape took out his wand. The parchment, ink, and quill vanished into thin air.

"Don’t worry. They’re on your bed," Snape said, putting away his wand.

Harry put the dream interpretation book back on the shelf, giving Snape a nervous, sideways glance before following the professor out of the library. He followed Severus through several corridors, pondering whether or not he should tell him about at least part of last night’s dream. Not about the sex on the bathroom floor part. No, definitely not that. But at least Snape should know about the part where Draco and Volkova were boffing like bunnies outside the bathroom door. Harry was certain he had heard them. He had even peeked under the door to make sure of who it was. 

‘Sir, I believe Professor Volkova is being indecent with Draco Malfoy,’ Harry tested out the words, and decided it was wiser if he didn’t even open his mouth. He’d only get himself into trouble. He just knew it. The terrifying side-effects from the locket, coupled with the dubious pleasures the glove had produced, had left Harry too completely terrified of what Volkova’s wand might reveal to him. He took it back from Hermione, and gave it to Dobby to return without having squeaked any information from it. Hermione had also given him back his invisibility cloak, having copied all the necessary runes into one of her many books of notes. 

Snape led Harry up the stairs now, to the top floor of a tower at the back of the castle that was hardly ever in use. In fact, Harry couldn’t remember ever being assigned a class in this tower. He peered out a window as they passed it. The view included the top of Hagrid’s hut and part of the Dark Forest. Severus went to the end of a vaguely-lit corridor, put his back to the wall, and pointed up. Harry fixed his gaze into the open-air garret ceiling.

"It’s a small, silver-gray object about the size of the palm of your hand," Snape said.

"I see it. Why not ‘accio’ it to yourself?" Harry wondered. 

"It’s a charm repeller, Potter," Snape said slowly, waiting for the boy to understand.

"Oh," Harry said finally. "Fancy that."

"Oh, fancy that," Snape mocked in his nasal tone. Harry found a half-smile, amused by the sound. "It was one of the safety measures Dumbledore gave me to protect my office. However, having encountered a charmed object or person in my office, the repeller fled here."

"I'd've thought your office was filled with charmed things-- magic items and stuff," Harry shrugged. 

"My office is filled with potion ingredients, vials, student lab assignments."

"Maybe your couch scared it?" Harry offered. Severus made a face at him, and Harry quickly lowered his eyes.

"It wasn't the couch," Snape said simply.

"The repeller broke out of your office to escape a charm? Does that mean someone might have booby-trapped your office?"

"Such a clever boy," Snape smiled darkly. 

"I see your dilemma, but how do I fit into this?" Harry asked. "You want me to climb the wall?"

"No. You cannot use magic to retrieve a charm repeller once it is activated. If you climb the wall using magic, your spell will disintegrate as you get nearer to the charm repeller. You will fall," Severus pointed over the railing and down into the corridor below. "Break several bones, probably die screaming and bleeding, and I will somehow be blamed for it."

"Yes, somehow. What about using a broom?"

"Harry, what makes your broom fly?" Severus asked, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Potter a mocking look.

"Magic."

"Mmmm hmmmm," Snape nodded.

"Suppose brooms are out too. So how do we get it down?"

"I’m going to lift you up, and you’re going to put out your hand, and you’re going to say one word. That word will temporarily distract the charm repeller, it will lose its grip on the ceiling, and it will fall into your hand."

"What is that word?"

Snape gave him a small piece of paper. Harry opened his mouth to say the word, and Severus clamped both hands around his face.

"If you say the word before you’re in range, it will drop out of sight. It will go find another very tall tower, probably one without a perch from which I can hope reach it."

Harry nodded, and Severus let go of his face and the back of his neck.

"This isn’t a magic word," Harry pointed out.

"No, it isn’t," Severus replied crisply.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said, feeling very dim, especially because Snape was smiling at him with wicked dark amusement glittering in his eyes.

"There’s hope for you yet," Severus murmured. "Take off your shoes. Take off your robe. Think light thoughts."

"You’re going to lift me up there?" Harry said skeptically. He unbuttoned his robe, feeling Severus’s eyes on him as he traced the edges slowly. This wasn’t exactly unlike how the dream last night started, but Harry knew that it would never remotely pass into reality. It had been a fantasy, nothing more. 

"Do hurry up, Potter. This isn’t a strip-tease. Take off your wand as well," Severus told him.

"You aren’t going to do anything funny, are you?" Harry asked, putting his robe on the floor and putting his wand in his robe. 

"Humor is the furthest thing from my mind at the moment, Harry. Do you have anything on your person that is in the least bit charmed or magicked or otherwise? Think hard. I want you demagicked before I lift you up there. Because if I lift you up there and whatever you are carrying or wearing frightens the charm repeller, it’s going to flee, and I’m going to be angry with you. Very angry," Snape emphasized.

"I do have a vial in my pocket."

"What does the vial contain?" Harry fished out the small glass cylinder and handed it to Snape. Severus held the vial up to the light. "Do I at least get a hint?"

Harry shook his head no. "It’s best you don’t ask how I came by that."

"Why not?"

"Cause I’d have to tell you, and it would have to be the truth, wouldn’t it?"

"I see. Can I venture a guess as to the origin of this potion?"

"Nope. You best not," Harry warned. Snape turned to him, studying him carefully. 

"How did you get the wand away from her?" He jumped right to the point.

"I didn’t," Harry answered truthfully.

"How did you get it back to her? That’s a better question."

"I didn’t do that either."

"But here you have what I’ve been trying to get my hands on for weeks, and no explanation offered? Hmm? What am I to make of this, Mr. Potter?"

"Whatever you like, I suppose."

"Are you trying to pull one over on me, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir."

"Mmm hmm," Snape hummed skeptically.

"Honestly, sir. But Ron and Hermione both speculated that there could be hazards involved with testing that, and so at the risk of sounding like Professor Dumbledore, I strongly recommend caution."

"I’ll wear my heavy dragon-hide gloves," Snape nodded. "Now," he purred, putting the potion on Harry’s cloak on the floor. "Now to business. Tell me about your shoes. Any spells?"

"No," Harry said, discarding them aside.

"Socks?"

"No."

"Trousers?"

"Perfectly ordinary."

"Shirt?"

"Standard."

"Quills, candy papers, gum, knick-knacks, doodads, what-nots in your pockets?"

Harry emptied out his pockets’ contents onto the robe, and they landed in various formations next to his wand. Severus paced next to the railing, keeping an eye on the repeller, ignoring whatever Harry pulled out of his pants. 

"Where were we? Undershirt? Undershorts?" Snape commanded.

"What sort of idiot hides magic items in his shorts?" Harry fussed.

"You might be surprised. Your tie? Is it at all charmed?"

"Yes. Hermione put a spell on it to keep it neatly knotted."

"Off with it," Snape said. Harry quickly tugged off his tie and put it on the pile. "Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Cologne? Soap? Shampoo? Toothpaste?"

"No. Perfectly ordinary stuff, sir."

"Lucky charms? Rabbit’s feet? Four-leaf clovers?"

"Honestly," Harry laughed. 

"Your glasses. When was the last time you spelled them for breaks or cracks?"

"Over the summer, probably."

"Can’t be too careful. Put them on the pile as well."

"I can’t see without them."

"You won’t have to see. All you’ll have to do is open your hand, say the word on that sheet of paper, and the repeller will fall at you."

"What about my scar?"

"Oh, damn," Snape hissed. "I forgot."

"You forgot about my scar?" Harry was shocked.

"Maybe it won’t be a problem." Severus was clearly being going for the optimistic approach.

"Yeah, right," Harry smirked.

"We can’t very well remove your scar, can we? We could cover it," he decided, lifting one of Harry’s hands and putting it over his forehead. "Um, no. You need both arms for balance. We’ll hope for the best."

"Is the scar itself cursed, or is it only the lasting impression of a curse?" Harry wanted to know. Snape blinked at him in annoyance. 

"Don’t go Zen on me. I’m in no mood," Snape warned. "Maybe if we’re quick enough, the repeller won’t see your scar. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible," Snape said, putting his robe down on top of Harry’s pile of things. "I expect as a Quidditch player, you’ll have more than a fair sense of balance?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. Snape knelt down and put his hands forward in a sling. Harry put his socked foot into the hands, and waited as the Potions Master slowly and carefully raised him from the ground. Harry wavered and doubled over, then balanced himself by putting his arms around Snape's neck. Severus growled at him, and Harry quickly let go. Snape pulled Harry into a straight line again and pushed him upwards. Harry's knees bent, and he collapsed against Severus for support. His knees collided sharply with Snape's shoulders. He felt hot breath against one of his thighs, and jolted into a standing position, fingers clutching dark, lank hair.

"Put your feet on my shoulders," Snape commanded. Harry followed directions, and before long, he was facing the stone wall, standing on Snape’s broad shoulders. When Harry and Severus were added together, Harry was within a mere three feet of the garret ceiling. The charm repeller was trembling in the highest peak, nestled back tightly into its niche.

"Professor Snape, it knows I’m here," Harry warned.

"Put out your hand," Snape grunted.

"I am."

"Say the word," he added impatiently.

"Apple," Harry murmured. The repeller fell at him, missed his fingers, and beaned him right on his scar. Harry heard a garbled curse from down below as he rocked quickly forward and fell backwards. He felt a rush of hands go up his legs, across his backside, and up his back before he found himself on the ground on his backside. Snape was kneeling before Harry, holding his lower back with both hands and glaring meanly at Potter. It seemed as if in the effort to land Harry lightly, the Potions Master had twisted his back quite painfully. 

"You missed it!" Snape accused, as he got carefully to his feet.

"Oh, well spotted," Harry snapped back, holding his throbbing face. "Where’d it go?" he asked. 

"Hold very still," Snape gasped excitedly.

"What?"

"It’s in your pocket. No! Don’t move."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, moving his hands aside and peering down. Indeed, there was a small lump on his chest where there hadn't been one before. Snape shoved his fingers deep into the confines of Harry’s shirt pocket and snatched the charm repeller out into the light. He kept a very tight grip on the trembling, fighting mass as he pulled his hand free. Harry quickly retrieved his glasses, and tried to get a better look through Snape’s tight fingers. He was rather disappointed because it seemed to be an ordinary stone to him.

"Very well done, Potter. What will it be? Twenty points, or one dose of the potion of your choice? Ah, there is a small caveat about the potion, if that is your preferred method of payment."

"What’s that?"

"A caveat. A warning. Don’t they teach you children Latin in grammar school any more?"

"I know what a caveat is. I wanted to know what your caveat WAS."

"The potion is limited to one you will use on yourself."

"Do I have to decide right here and now?"

"No. Mull it over. Twenty points here or there could raise your average. You never know."

"What are you going to do with the repeller ?" Harry asked, putting his shoes back on and picking up his robe. Small items from his pockets went everywhere in the hallway, including one beautiful velvet glove. Severus stopped in his tracks, holding both hands around the lump.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"What?" 

"The glove. From Draco?" Snape asked. Harry picked up the glove and shoved it back in his pocket, very embarrassed. 

"Yes," he said.

"Only one?" Severus wondered. 

"He has the other. The idea was that if the pair were cursed, we’d both be affected."

"That’s what he gave you this time to hone in on Lucius?"

"Yes."

"You were in the dream interpretation book trying to figure out what your dream was about, the one you had while holding this glove," Snape understood.

"Yes," Harry said meekly. 

"What did you see?"

"No comment," Harry mumbled. 

"Something very personal, too personal to share with Trelawney."

"Quite personal, yes."

"May I guess what you saw, and will you tell me if I am correct?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, noticing for the first time how very pale Severus looked. Snape lowered his voice as he spoke, stepping closer to Harry. No doubt about it, Snape was choosing his words carefully.

"You got rather a different view of a bathroom floor."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry gulped, pulling his tie back on.

"Several different views."

"How did you know?"

"I was there, remember?"

Snape paced back and forth, holding the repeller as he tried to decide what else to say. Harry decided to keep his mouth shut and wait. It took Snape a full two minutes to find his voice. 

"What you dreamed about, that was a long time ago, Harry, and not an incident by which you should judge me too harshly. Nor Lucius either one for that matter."

"You and Lucius?" Harry puzzled. 

"It was once, and never again," Snape added, anxious to be understood. Harry gave a relieved sigh and covered his mouth with his hand. "It was once. I was young and stupidly infatuated. Why are you giggling?" he glared hotly.

"You don’t have to explain," Harry insisted. "I didn’t know you went in for the tall, blond type."

"It’s not something I advertise, Mr. Potter. I don’t throw myself at every gorgeous man that catches my eye. Not even all men are attractive. But some men hold a certain appeal for me."

"You don’t have to explain, please," Harry said. "I don’t care. I mean, do whatever makes me happy. YOU happy. You happy," he corrected.

"Some in the wizarding world don’t share such an open-minded view. Why did you laugh?"

"I laughed because I got it all wrong. I thought I was having another fantasy about you," Harry squeaked, blushing and laughing at the same time. "But it was you and Lucius, and I was Lucius, and it’s okay. I get it. Okay...whew. That’s such a relief."

Snape blinked at Harry, clearly wondering about the risks of beaning him with the repeller a second time. But realization peeked through his dark countenance. Another fantasy? That would seem to indicate Harry had had others. What had the boy seen while sitting on that couch??

"You didn’t find the experience unpleasant?" Snape tested. Because ten minutes on that couch had had the boy sobbing, Severus had to question what had been so different about what he had seen while holding Lucius's glove.

"No," Harry admitted softly, lifting his chin to be able to look Severus in the eyes. "The floor was cold, but everything else was nice."

"Nice?" Snape frowned. "Nice? What an ineffective, stupid word. Nice how?"

"Warm and sticky nice," Harry whispered, feeling like his brain had melted a little. He couldn’t believe he was telling Snape this. But Severus stopped being angry very quickly. One brow went up. He was clearly intrigued. He leaned down to whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

"Warm and sticky?" he repeated. "How interesting. I would like, if I may," Snape began.

"Yes, sir?"

"I would like to see what you dreamed."

"But you can’t do a Legilimens spell while holding the charm repeller," Harry reminded him. 

"I know," Severus whispered. "Come to my office."

"You want to see what Lucius was thinking? You aren't going to make me sit on that love-divan of yours again, are you??" 

"No," Severus lied. He was actually more interested in seeing what Harry had determined was ‘warm and sticky’ nice. Anything else he learned might be just gravy.

"No, perhaps you shouldn’t. What if you don’t like what you see?" Harry decided. Maybe he suspected what Snape’s real motive was. No matter. Severus accepted this in stride, pulling away from Harry a comfortable distance. 

"Quite right. It’s not healthy to dwell on the past. But I’ve always wondered what I did wrong, what I did that might have displeased Lucius that night."

"He didn’t seem at all displeased, if I was him, and he was me," Harry said. "Or, something," he added when Snape studied him closely. "It wasn’t technique, if that’s what you’re worried about."

"I should hope not. I got a week of detentions for breaking into the Restricted Section for those particular books. McGonagall wanted to flay me."

"You amazed Lucius," Harry said, hoping that was good. 

"Worse than I thought, then," Snape decided grimly. "I overwhelmed him. Too much? Too quick?"

"Have you been worried about it, all these years?" Harry asked. Severus shrugged.

"I wouldn’t say worried. I’d say concerned. What if– it’s the single most destructive thought any of us can have. What if I had done this? What if I had done that? Would things have turned out differently if I had done this? Do you understand?"

"Mm hm," Harry said, giving a quick nod. Snape appeared to very seriously doubt him.

"Illumina always told me that my biggest problem was always feeling like I had to prove myself better. Didn’t matter what it was. I always had to be better than everyone else. Smarter than everyone else. Quicker. More worldly. More capable. More durable. You’re smiling again, Potter, and I’m not sure I like the ideas that are going through your head."

"You’re a double agent," Harry whispered. Severus’s eyes narrowed to pinpoints.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You and Lucius were shagging, yet he is married, and you are married, and clearly, that wasn’t all bad for you either, because you and Illumina seem to get along well." Harry balanced the conversation between one hand and the other, quickly drawing out the glove and giving it to Severus. 

"Where’s the potion?" Snape asked. Harry gave that to him as well.

"Tell me about the gloves," Harry said.

"I saw them in a shop in London and bought them for Lucius with the money I was supposed to use for school clothes. I knew Lucius would love them. His father never allowed such frivolity as this. Too expensive. Too showy. The man was waging a patrician war against masculine beauty. He deplored pointless charm, especially in his son. And what is Lucius absolutely spilling over with, I ask you?

"Pointless charm?" Harry ventured. 

"Lucius was always dressed finely but as plainly as possible. His father made every conceivable attempt to conceal what an exquisite young man Lucius was. But these gloves screamed to me when I saw them, and I bought them for Lucius. He was flabbergasted. He was flattered. He was accustomed to people fawning over him all the time, but no one had ever given him something so decadent and pointless and beautiful before. I may have spoiled him for life with one pair of gloves," Severus mused.

"They are rather nice," Harry said, stroking the velvet a final time. 

"There’s that foolish word again."

"They are smooth, and soft, and heavenly, and I wonder what it would be like to be covered in this material from head to toe. Is that better than ‘nice’?" Harry asked. It must have been. Severus was chuckling.

"Harry, the situation between Lucius and I was once. It wasn’t long term. If anything, he would be embarrassed if reminded of it."

"Yes. I know. It was a long time ago, and you’ll never do it again. But once is sometimes enough, isn’t it? I mean, I’m curious what it would be like....you know....in person. I’m only curious."

"There’s no harm in curiosity," Severus decided. "But this conversation isn’t appropriate."

"Why not? You said I could ask you anything. I want to know what it feels like when someone who...cares....about...you....someone...when they....."

"I simply cannot believe we are having this conversation. At the risk of stating the obvious, Mr. Potter, you are my student. I am your married instructor. You are sixteen. I’m over forty. You’re the bright shining sun of the wizarding world. You’re clean, unsullied, white as fallen snow. My hands and my soul are covered with deeds as black as pitch. Not to mention the most compelling reasons of all."

"What would those be?"

"Dumbledore would be less than understanding, and Remus Lupin would burst his spleen in fury at me. I wish you wouldn’t smile that way when I tell you serious things, Harry."

"Like what?" Harry wanted to know, not even aware of the way he was smiling.

"My job, Mr. Potter, has always been to prevent your innocence and your abilities from falling into the wrong hands. How hypocritical would it be if after all these years of protecting you, putting my life on the line for you, being willing to kill or die for you, if I were the one to seize your innocence for myself, and thereby wreck your abilities as a wizard?"

"Wait," Harry puzzled, his ears ringing with the rush of blood in his brain. Severus’s look changed, as if he realized what he’d said and was regretting his words. "You’re attracted to me?" Harry was smiling that way again. "Could we go some place private and discuss this?"

"What part of INAPPROPRIATE don’t you get?" Snape growled.

"Go back to the part about protecting...preventing...." Harry’s eyes went wide as the rest of Snape’s words grabbed him by the throat and choked away his ability to think. 

"I erred in telling you," Snape decided.

"You’re supposed to keep me pure?"

"Yes, for as long as I can."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"I’ll make you wear a chastity belt if I have to," he warned. 

"Why did you ask me all that stuff about whether or not I was a virgin if you already knew I was? Am. Whatever."

"It grieves me to tell you that we were having that exchange for someone else's benefit."

"You had to prove to someone else that I was a virgin. But who? Why?"

"I really don't think I'm the person you should be asking about this, Harry," Severus dodged.

"I can’t have sex?"

"You can have sex, with yourself and no one else."

"!" Harry’s expression said it all. 

"It’s not forever, Potter. It’s until Voldemort is dead."

"What?!" Harry bellowed, drawing in a chestful of air. "I can’t have sex until Voldemort is DEAD?"

"It’s not that you can’t have sex. The truth is you shouldn’t."

"Draco was telling me the truth? I’ll lose my magic if I lose my virginity?"

"No. Your magic will be stronger the longer you remain a virgin. The longer you allow your body and your magic to mature, the stronger your abilities as a wizard will be."

"How long have you known about this?"

"I thought I told you this was inappropriate."

"But, sir! How can you ask this of me? I never agreed to stay a virgin until Voldemort is gone."

"If you want any hope of defeating him, you’ll put your own selfish desires aside and do what’s best for the people who are depending on you. Do you know how many have sacrificed themselves for you? For what we hope you can do? How dare you think of yourself when so many people have given their all?"

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did Voldemort wait?"

"25."

Harry gave a scalded gasp and exploded with fury.

"That’s another TEN YEARS!"

"Nine, actually."

"It’s a bloody decade!"

"This may shock you, Potter, but there are people who have abstained from sex for months, years, decades, and they’ve gone on to lead perfectly healthy lives."

"Are they all cranky, dungeon-dwelling Potions Masters?" Harry growled. Severus grinned almost immediately.

"Not all of them, surely," he replied. "What would be the odds of that?"

"This is horrible!" Harry bawled.

"Look on the bright side."

"There’s a bright side?!"

"There’s always the remote chance Voldemort will get killed sooner rather than later."

"What do you suppose the odds on that are?" Harry muttered.

"Slim to none, but they do exist."

"Why didn’t Dumbledore tell me about this before?" Harry protested.

"You were eleven years old when you came to Hogwarts. You were a child. What did you think Albus was going to do? Take you to his office, give you a lemon drop, and say, ‘Look, Harry, I know you’re only eleven years old, and that you’re spent the better part of your life locked under a staircase in the dark, but here’s how things stand. You are the savior of the wizarding world you never knew existed. You’re pivotally involved in a dark and bitter dispute between the forces of good and evil. Oh, and by the way, you can’t have sex until you kill the evil bastard who murdered your parents’. Is that what you expected to hear?"

Harry blinked at Snape in anger, not sure whether to cry or to strike out at him. He turned and picked up Snape’s cloak off the floor, and started down the hallway.

"Come back here with that. Where are you going?!"

"Dumbledore," Harry replied.

"What?" Snape hurried to catch up.

"I’m going to ask him to tell me what else there is to know about this whole Voldemort situation. I want to know what other hidden agendas and secret prophecies and nasty little catches I’m going to encounter before I’m finished with this," Harry swore, storming down the stairs. Severus bounced happily after him.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he cautioned, beaming gleefully in anticipation. 

"I find out there's anything else you all haven't told me, the next Dark Lord that comes along, you're on your own," Harry threatened angrily.


	32. In the Headmaster's Office

Harry and Snape were riding up the staircase into Dumbledore’s office. The gleeful smirk had yet to leave Severus’s face. He had forgotten all about how his back was throbbing in pain. Potter was positively fuming, burning an incandescent red that was made him look feverish. Snape clutched his charm repeller, watching Harry tug angrily at a loose thread on his black cloak.

"Ah, Harry! I was about to send for you!" Albus Dumbledore beamed when Harry burst into the office. Potter froze on the first step, his mouth open in shock. Remus Lupin was sitting in front of the Headmaster’s desk, and beside him were Draco and Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius!" Snape gasped. He quickly handed Harry the charm repeller and rushed forward to put a hand on Malfoy Senior’s shoulder.

"I’m positive I know you," Lucius said as he squinted up at Severus. Draco shook his head sadly. 

"He’s been hit by an Obliviate spell," Draco explained to Snape. 

"Are you harmed? You should see Madam Pomfrey at once," Severus insisted, pulling Lucius to his feet. Malfoy was laughing softly.

"The lovely lady in the hospital wing?"

"Don’t worry," Dumbledore assured Snape. "He’s already been checked over twice. Madam Pomfrey pronounced him in sound health, physically. As soon as they take their leave of us, Draco is going to escort his father back to Malfoy Manor, and he will remain at his side until Lucius recovers himself."

"When I find out who did this to my father, I’ll have them before the Ministry of Magic on assault charges," Draco promised vehemently. Lucius tisked at him in good humor.

"Lad, I’m perfectly fine. I haven’t felt this good in years. Draco. Draco. Who are you again?"

"I’m your son."

"Yes. I do see the resemblance. Handsome devil, aren’t you? Your mother? My wife?" he asked, his fingers doing a little happy dance as a smile spasmed on his face.

"Her name is Narcissa," Snape supplied, darting a hot glance at Lupin, who was holding his side in an effort not to bust his gut in laughter. 

"I’m dying to meet her," Lucius purred. "Is she good looking?"

"Very," Snape assured him. 

"Let me get this straight. I'm extremely rich. I have a gorgeous wife. I have a son any man would be thrilled with. I'm a powerful wizard. Have I always been such a lucky bastard?" Lucius asked. 

"You were born with a lucky horseshoe up your—" Lupin tried to say when Dumbledore interrupted.

"Mr. Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey assures me your father is in perfectly fine shape. But you should have your family doctor give him a thorough examination when you get him home, to put your mind at ease. I will tell your instructors not to expect you back until you are ready."

"Do you want my help?" Severus offered. Draco took his father’s arm, shaking his head no.

"Draco seems to know where we’re going. We’ll be fine. Nice to see you. What was your name again?" Lucius asked.

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Snape. I’m sure I know you."

"You’ve known me for many years, Lucius."

"You have a son as well, I see," Lucius smiled at Harry. Potter was gaping at Malfoy, trying to ignore the scowl Draco was wearing, watching his father make a right fool of himself.

"Um, no," Snape said as Remus all but fell out of his chair.

"NO!" he hollered, furious.

"I’m sorry. No. I can see that now. I do apologize," Lucius said. 

"Harry Potter," Harry said, extending a hand at Lucius. Malfoy took his hand, and to Harry’s surprise, his scar tingled, not in anger or terror, but with happy zinging that was very pleasant. 

"If you shake hands with everyone we meet, we’re never getting home," Draco said, detaching Harry’s hand from Lucius’s. He escorted his father away very stiffly, and Dumbledore closed the door behind them. Once the door closed, Harry and Severus assumed the seats Draco and Lucius had vacated. Harry rubbed his head and shook out the stars that had started to collect there.

"Where was he found?" Harry asked into the suspiciously quiet room. 

"London," Lupin said. "Tonks and I were there to see Shacklebolt off on vacation, and damned if Lucius Malfoy doesn’t step right off the train in front of us, smiling like a dazed tourist. Someone apparently obliviated him, blissed him, gave him a Eurorail Pass and a major credit card, and sent him off to the Continent for a small vacation."

"He had a Muggle passport stamped for everywhere from Portugal to Pakistan," Dumbledore explained. 

"Blissed him?" Harry questioned.

"They gave him a bliss. It’s a spell that makes you cheerful for a week, a fort-night, a month. There’s no telling how long it could last," Remus explained. "What a blessing!"

"You were there when he arrived?" Snape questioned, glaring at Lupin.

"How lucky is that?" Remus grinned. Snape’s glare darkened.

"You’ll forgive me if I find this whole situation more than appalling."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore soothed. "Lucius is perfectly fine. He’s tanned and rested and happy. He’s never been better. I won’t have you and Remus bickering like children. Why don’t you tell me why you and Harry are here? Severus, quit glaring at Remus and focus your attention here, please. I see you’re having trouble with your charm repeller. May I have a look?" Albus said, putting out a hand. Harry carefully gave the rock to the Headmaster. 

"Someone scared it," Harry said, though he wondered if the repeller had simply gotten one good look at Snape in a foul mood and fled the office for its own safety.

"Scared it? They’ve nearly terrified it to death," Dumbledore tisked, staring at it over the rims of his sparkling glasses.

"Does this have anything to do with Le Clair’s appearance last night?" Lupin asked. 

"No. It happened two days ago," Snape muttered. 

"Why didn’t you come to me when this first happened?" Albus asked.

"It was at the very top of the Black Queen’s Tower. It took me a day to find it, and another day to figure out how to get it down."

"How did you get it down?" Dumbledore asked.

"I lifted Mr. Potter up to reach it."

"Creative," Dumbledore smiled. "I’ll see what I can do about it. Find out what scared it."

"What are you going to do about Volkova and Le Clair?" Lupin asked. 

"Whatever I can do. You aren’t suggesting we allow her to surrender herself to him, are you?" Dumbledore asked. Lupin shook his head no.

"He’ll kill her sure as the world," Lupin said.

"No. I suspect he means to convert her. Why not let him do it? It was her house elf who let him through the wards into the school," Snape said. Harry’s eyes went wide at this announcement. 

"Malchik was doing what Volkova told her to do. She did not know that he followed her from Venice until it was too late, and then she was on the run for her life," Dumbledore insisted. "You can’t think Volkova would willingly bait a vampire into coming this close to our students."

"Can’t I?" Snape asked. 

"She wouldn’t risk Malchik’s life," Harry interrupted. "Dobby said..."

"Dobby said what?" Snape asked.

"Dobby said Professor Volkova takes very good care of Malchik."

"Hmph," Snape snorted.

"I know you don’t like Professor Volkova, but from what I’ve seen, she cares about Malchik and would never endanger her. She certainly would not use her as vampire bait," Harry growled at Snape. "Malchik is her only friend and ally, don’t you see?"

"My heart bleeds for her," Snape purred. 

"You are in a foul mood, aren’t you?" Dumbledore asked, keeping a remarkably straight face, all things considered. "Harry, you came in in a rush, and got side-tracked. What is it you wanted to talk about? Do you have questions about what happened last night? Did it look to you like Malchik wanted an confrontation with Le Clair?"

"No, sir," Harry answered when he could manage to speak. "She was as scared of him as I was."

"Your tie was a big hit. I think you’ll notice if you go past the hospital wing on your way to deliver these to Hagrid," Dumbledore said, handing Harry a tremendously-large pair of furry mittens from a bottom desk drawer. "She’s probably never going to take it off again."

"Why did you burst in, Harry?" Lupin asked. Dumbledore and Snape stared at Harry as Potter fingered the furry mittens and opened and closed his mouth several times. Severus clearly couldn’t wait for Harry to go on and spit it out.

"It’s not important," Harry lied, ducking his head. 

"So much for Gryffindor spirit," Snape whispered. Harry gave him a petulant squint from under a fringe of wild hair and pink-rimmed cheeks. Snape taunted him back with an anything-but-innocent smile.

"Peppermint?" Dumbledore offered, holding out a dish to Harry. Potter put a couple fingers into the glass container and snagged a candy. He pushed it into his mouth, lowering his eyes to the floor as he felt all three adults staring at him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, sucking noisily. 

"You’d better run along, Harry," the Headmaster said, rising to his feet and motioning for Harry to do the same. "Hagrid needs his mittens."

"You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?" Harry asked. 

"Speaking frankly, yes. I wouldn’t normally be this brusque, but I do need to talk to Remus and Severus, and I suspect they need to do a bit of talking among themselves. A fair piece of that is going to concern you. There could be foul language involved. No need to expose you to all that." Dumbledore allowed a small smile to grace his face, and it seemed enough to amuse Harry but not annoy Lupin or Snape.

"What are you going to do while they’re talking?" Harry wanted to know.

"Wait for them to stop. If they don’t settle their differences, I’m going to lock them in a room and not let them out until they promise they will get along. Oh, don’t think I wouldn’t do it," Dumbledore added, pointing one long finger at Snape, who was already making a sour face at Lupin. "You run along, dear boy," the Headmaster said to Harry.

"Can I have my cloak back, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked as Harry turned to leave. Harry stomped back in his direction, and dropped the covering unceremoniously into Snape’s lap. The gush of black material disguised the fact he had purposefully stepped on Snape’s long toes. To his credit, Snape didn’t so much as blink.

"Does your back still hurt?" Harry taunted.

"How’s your scar?" Severus murmured back.

"I’ll bet your Patronus is a garden slug, one of the really disgusting green ones," Harry muttered.

"Actually, it’s a poisonous tree frog," Snape retorted. Harry huffed at him, turned up his nose, and stomped loudly away.


	33. Love Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blood-sucking things that go bump in the dark forest

Judging from the animosity between Professor Snape and Remus Lupin in the dinner hall two nights later, Halloween Night to be exact, Dumbledore might have to find that room sooner rather than later. They were seated on either side of Professor McGonagall, who kept chiding them both as they tormented each other throughout the meal, turning each other’s wine to vinegar and peas to marbles, and other such petty things.

Rumors had been flying all over school for a couple days now, about how Lupin and others had by chance run into Lucius Malfoy in London and rescued him. The students somehow knew all about how Lupin had brought Malfoy Senior back to Hogwarts and graciously released him into his family’s care. Whoever had oblivated and blissed Lucius Malfoy had done a very superior job of it. By all accounts, he’d been spreading good humor and joy everywhere he went. Family advisors had instructed Narcissa to keep Lucius confined to Malfoy Manor for the time being. Draco had yet to return to school, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he weren’t back for some time. He didn’t know why, but Harry found himself feeling sorry for Draco. Here the boy was, barely older than Harry, facing the possibility that his father might never be right in the mind again. It must have been very hard to accept. 

At the Gryffindor Table, Ron and Harry sat side by side, and Hermione sat opposite them with her nose in a book. It wasn’t turning out to be a very cheery holiday. Not even the live bats put a smile on Harry’s face this year. He could feel it in his bones– the night was going to go from bad to worse. Of course, Halloween had never been for good to him, had it?

"Find anything useful?" Ron asked. Granger replied a quick ‘shush’ and continued reading. Ron nudged Harry’s side. "She’s barely talked to us all night. You’d think we was nothing but rubbish."

Granger lowered her book and stared blandly at Ron. 

"It’s fascinating, really. The Bliss is a blessing, and so there’s no counter curse. Nothing can be done. It leaves the victim in a state of happiness that pain, sorrow, nor heartbreak can penetrate." Hermione said quietly. "Really quite fascinating."

"There’s no counter curse because it’s a blessing, that’s what Professor Snape said," Harry murmured. "No one needs a counter bless, now do they? No point to it. Why would you want to undo a blessing?"

"So Lucius will be in a good mood for a few days. Where’s the harm?" Ron wondered.

"It’s serious, Ron. Someone under the sway of a Bliss for more than two weeks straight can be considered for commitment to St. Mungo’s," Hermione said.

"I don’t see the problem," Ron countered. "Draco’s not at Hogwarts bugging us. Lucius Malfoy isn’t out, spreading his ‘pure-blood’ rhetoric about the wizarding world. He can’t use his money to get his way out of this one. You-Know-Who is short his most important accomplice. The Big V must be fit to be tied. Where’s the downside?" Ron wanted to know.

"Draco hates our guts," Hermione said. "He’ll stop at nothing to find who did this to his father."

"Serves Lucius right. Someone ought to have done it to him sooner," Ron barked.

"Look what Draco did to Harry."

"You mean the boob thing? That wasn’t Draco at all, and Harry got better."

"If Draco decides to commit his father, and he gets his hands on the Malfoy family money, there’s very little that’s going to stop him if he means to do me harm," Harry said grimly. "If he suspects I had anything whatsoever to do with what happened to his father, he could make Voldemort seem down right chummy." 

"You didn’t do it. Draco knows that," Ron protested.

"But if someone injured Lucius in an effort to help me defeat Voldemort, I’m partially responsible for his condition, aren’t I?" Harry asked.

"You’re nutters," Ron decided, giving Harry another candy apple.

"Have you taken a good look at Volkova this evening?" Hermione said. 

"She’s out of sorts, isn’t she?" Ron said. "Looks green around the edges. Her hair could use a combing too."

"We’d look a bit green if we had a vampire calling for our blood, wouldn’t we? I feel bad for her. Draco’s been gone for more than twenty-four hours," Harry whispered. "If she’s been depending on him as a source for the ingredient for her protection spell, and he’s gone too long, she’s going to be left vulnerable."

"You really think she’s been, you know, doing stuff to Draco?" Ron asked. 

"Ron, if she did anything to Draco, he wouldn’t be a source anymore," Hermione reminded him softly.

"Whatever. You’re splitting hairs. If he’s doing something around her so she can have the end result."

"Don’t say it," Hermione cringed. "I’m getting queasy, all this talk about it."

"What I’m saying is," Ron started, and Hermione made a face at him. "You know what I’m saying," he turned to Harry and continued. "Whether or not Draco is still technically a virgin, Volkova is doing improper things to one of her students. We need to tell someone," he insisted.

"I tried to tell McGonagall," Harry said.

"How’d that go?" Ron wondered. 

"I couldn’t," Harry sighed. 

"Why not?" 

"I lost my nerve," Harry admitted.

"You lost your nerve?" Ron teased. "You’ve got more balls than Quidditch, Harry. How could you lose your nerve?"

"I didn’t know how to tell her."

"It’s easy."

"Oh, is it? ‘Good morning, Professor McGonagall. Lovely weather we’re having. By the way, Draco’s touching himself and giving his spunk to Volkova’. Why do you think I haven’t told her?" Harry fussed. Hermione groaned, and Ron laughed.

"Harry," she growled.

"What?"

"I’m trying to eat."

"You’re not eating. You’re ignoring us. You’re reading at the table. It’s incredibly rude," Ron pointed out. Hermione snapped her book shut and glared silently at Weasley. Ron glared silently back. 

"Do you have to keep saying it?" she whined at Harry, glancing at him.

"What word do you want me to use?" he questioned. 

"I want you to stop talking about it," Hermione growled.

"You can’t use cum or sperm," Ron reminded him.

"Or gism. Or creme," Harry continued. 

"She ixnayed love juice as well. Frankly, I’m running out of euphemisms," Ron chuckled, delighting in Hermione’s discomfort.

"Vulgar barbarians," Hermione glared at them.

"Whatever way you say it, the fact of the matter is, Volkova has lost her source for her potion ingredient, and she’s nervous. That’s all. I’ll bet she’s racked up plenty of enemies in her years as a vampire killer," Harry went on. "Not just the highly-agitated Monsieur Le Clair either."

"Probably," Ron agreed. "Of course, he’s allergic to sunlight, so he should be easy to avoid, but the others could be trickier."

"Wonder if Snape has made any progress with that potion I gave him," Harry said. 

"We’re overlooking the obvious. Volkova could always find herself another virgin. Wouldn’t be hard around here," Ron said, smiling at Harry. Potter gave him a dark glance. "Are you supposed to have fencing lessons tonight with Snape after dinner?" Ron asked, trying to divert his anger. 

"He cancelled on me. Said he has an appointment this evening, but that we’ll pick up tomorrow night." 

"Who’s he meeting?" Hermione asked.

"His wife." The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop them. Ron and Hermione both gaped at him. Harry raised a finger and said, "Obliviate," at them.

"Correct me if I’m wrong," Hermione began.

"There’s simply no justice in a world where Draco Malfoy is wanking off for the best-looking teacher around, and Severus Snape is meeting his....didn’t you say his wife was a vampire?" Ron asked, finishing Hermione’s question for her. 

"No comment," Harry growled. 

"Fine. No comment. Well, since you’re free, you can spend the evening with Hermione and me."

"Oh joy. As much as I’d love to watch you two fight or snog, or fight and snog, or whatever, no thanks," Harry moped. "I'd rather go drown myself in one of the apple-bobbing tanks."

"Harry," Hermione scolded.

"You’re a day behind, mate," Ron teased. "While you were getting charm repellers off the ceiling for Snape, she was busy telling me she wouldn’t marry me if I was the last single wizard in England."

"If I 'were' the last single wizard, 'were' the last single wizard, and I said in the entire U.K.," Hermione corrected.

"There. You see? Even less likely," Ron motioned.

"Oh, stop," Harry muttered. "Who do you think you’re fooling? I’ll die of shock if you two graduate before you’re married. You’ll be together and happy and having sex every day, and I’ll be stuck a virgin forever, chasing Voldemort’s moldy butt all over creation, with no one for company but a half-mad werewolf and an angry, bitter necrophiliac Potions Master."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a significant look. Harry decided that perhaps he had said too much.

"Harry," Hermione murmured in a motherly tone, "you're taking this virgin thing much too harshly."

"I wouldn't go there if I was you," Ron said as Harry's eyes took on the impression that a roman candle was going off inside his skull.

"Where is she going?" Hermione asked as Volkova rose unsteadily from the table and pulled her cloak tightly around herself.

"Where’s he going, that’s a better question," Ron asked as they turned to see Snape slipping out the door into the main hall. "Oh! Is it time for the pumpkin toss on the Quidditch Field?"

"Where are you going?"Hermione asked Harry. Potter slipped his leg over the bench as he emptied his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"To hang myself," he replied before stomping away.

"Harry’s in a mood, isn’t he?" Ron shook his head. "Do you suppose Snape was serious when he told Harry he had to stay a virgin if he wanted to defeat Voldemort?"

"Do you mean serious as opposed to kidding?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, what’s the likelihood of Snape kidding anyone?" Ron agreed. "Harry isn’t really going to go hang himself, is he?"

"No. He’s off to pout in a dark corner in a tall tower. Let him be, unless you want to be subjected to more spleen venting. I for one am tired of having to sit here and be yelled at without giving it back to him."

"Give it back to him," Ron suggested.

"Hard to give it back when he’s right," Hermione said sadly.

"He’s got a dark side, though, that one. No doubt about it," Ron murmured.

***

Harry darted into the shadows at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as Hagrid’s door swung open into the night. The giant himself was traipsing across the lawn towards his house. Harry put himself in the shadow of the closest tree, curling down to the ground under his invisibility cloak as Hagrid stepped closer. Potter had been on his way to the Gryffindor Tower when he saw Snape exit the castle and head in this direction. Having really nothing better to do with his time, and deciding a good pout might wait until later in the evening, Harry raced upstairs, snatched up his father’s cloak, and headed for the hidden staircase. It deposited him in the courtyard, and from there, he had crept towards Hagrid’s Hut.

"You can come out now," Hagrid called into the night when he saw that his door was open. Harry held their breath. Had Hagrid seen him? Who was he talking to?

"I thought I heard someone," Severus said, coming out of Hagrid’s hut

"You did. Me," Hagrid replied. Snape sniffed the night air and pulled on a pair of dark, leather gloves. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Dumbledore won't allow Illumina in the school. Meeting her in Hogsmeade would attract too much attention. Meeting her in the forest is my only option."

"It isn’t safe meeting her in the forest at night," Hagrid cautioned. "That Le Clair fellow is nearby. I’ve found all kinds of dead animals in there, sucked entirely dry of blood." 

So Hagrid knew about Illumina too? Harry held still, continuing to listen.

"If I don’t return before midnight, you have my permission to come into the forest and stake whatever you find, myself included."

"Is Illumina coming alone?"

"As far as I know, yes," Snape replied. 

"You can trust Illumina, but you can’t trust Le Clair. I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous."

"Rubbish," Snape scoffed. 

"Why don’t you invite her into my house?" Hagrid offered.

"Thank you, but the over-abundance of light and warmth might prove fatal to her. It would take hours to douse the fire and clear out the warmth. Your boarhound would likely panic and try to maul her."

"He wouldn’t maul anyone," Hagrid interjected, flaming with indignation.

"Besides, I’d like a chance to talk to her privately. Is that all right?"

"All right. You want to be alone. I understand. But are you sure you don’t want extra protection in there?" Hagrid asked.

"I’m quite sure. If I don’t return by midnight, you don’t let me come back out of there. Is that understood?" Severus added.

"I’ll be out here at midnight," Hagrid promised, giving a serious frown. 

Snape set off into the Forbidden Forest at a quick, determined pace. Harry was tempted to dart away right after him, but Hagrid was still standing outside his hut, and was quickly joined by Fang. Harry stared back across the lawn and his eyes grew wide. In the moonlight, his tracks were glistening on the ground. The odd thing was, there appeared to be more than one set of tracks across the field. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered. Hagrid was rising off his steps, and was stalking over to the place where the prints were visible. He was too keen a tracker not to notice them, after all. Hagrid rose up from the ground and walked directly towards the place where Harry had been hiding. Potter dashed off into the forest as quickly as he could. 

"All right. You may as well come out. I know you’re there," Hagrid said gruffly. Harry paused in flight to watch the giant from a safe distance. Hagrid peered into the trees, and reached back for Fang’s collar. "What do you think? Do we go in or not?" he asked the hound. In reply, Fang went back into the hut. "All right then. I guess anything else would be nosy, wouldn’t it?"

Harry wasn’t sure why he was following Snape into the forest, except that the alternative was to go back to Gryffindor Tower and be around people who all seemed to be together. He didn’t want to sit around and watch Ron and Hermione get cozy, or Ginny and Dean, or Neville and Luna. Harry tried to think about something else, but he kept coming back to the ugly reality that his life wasn’t his own, and it never had been. Every decision he ever thought he had made had been decided for him beforehand, and he’d just been steered his whole life, like a pawn on a chessboard. The sex thing had been the last straw. These people were even going to control his sex life?? He didn’t have one yet, of course, but he had had hopes! 

Harry paused as he realized he was crunching loudly through the underbrush, stomping out his anger with each step. Getting back on the path, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He crept along until he reached a small group of trees. He remained in the trees and watched Snape up ahead in the clearing beyond the wide trunks and thin underbrush. The Potions Master stood straight, glancing around himself and inhaling the cold autumn air as if trying to pick up a scent on the wind. The pale moonlight made him appear even more menacing somehow, swathed in black and striding about. 

"Illumina, are you there?" Snape called softly. 

There was no response. Severus continued on, disappointment beginning to appear on his face. Every hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. His scar was starting to throb horribly, but considering the fact he was following Severus Snape, who was sneaking into the Dark Forest to have a clandestine meeting with his vampire wife, Harry wasn’t at all surprised that his scar was warning him he was in danger. He was keen enough to figure that out without a painful drumming on his forehead and inside his skull. The professor crossed the clearing and moved into the trees again, pulling out his wand. He had sensed someone else was nearby. Harry held his breath. 

"Lumos," Snape murmured, his voice deep and fearless. Harry envied that strength, and wondered why he’d never noticed it before. 

The end of Snape’s wand lit a path even deeper into the woods, revealing a nearby circle of willows. Snape wound his way into the hollow formed by the bent trees. Animals called in the distance, at least Harry hoped they were animals. Wolves, by the sound of it. He listened carefully to the night as Snape stopped and lowered his wand. Harry worried why until he heard a noise from the other side of the hollow.

"I’ve always liked you in black, Severus."

She stepped into the moonlight, and Harry breathed loudly, an echo of the breath around him in the air. It was Illumina, in the flesh. She looked the same as she had in the picture on his chocolate frog card, with long dark hair and pale skin. The difference was that her almond-shaped eyes were red instead of hazel, and the darkness amplified them supernaturally. Besides that, she was dressed not in the wizard clothes Harry would have expected, but in Muggle clothes– tight leather pants, knee-high boots, and a heavy jacket decorated with thin, silver chains that jangled when she moved. Harry hunched down and watched the two of them as quietly as he could.

"How long have you been waiting?" Severus asked. "Who dressed you in that ridiculous outfit?"

"Not long, and I dressed myself, thank you."

"With your eyes open or closed? You been raiding Sirius Black’s closet?"

"This from the man who once dyed his hair green and silver for the Yule Ball?"

"I was trying to impress you."

"I am trying to impress you. Don’t you like them? I’m told they make me taller." She turned around once, raising her arms slightly. "Say something flattering, won’t you? It took me forever to get into these pants," she complained, putting one hand down on her hip.

"I’d be far more interested in knowing how long it might take you to get out of them," Severus chuckled. 

"You know, for a man here to talk about a divorce settlement, that’s an awfully fresh thing to say," Illumina replied, smiling wickedly at him. "Are you sure you weren’t followed from the school?"

"Not that I’m aware."

"I smell candy apples," she said, sniffing the wind. Harry quickly wiped his fingers across his mouth.

"We can't stay here long. I'm sure there are others here in the forest," Snape said.

"Others?" Illumina questioned.

"Like you," he explained. "You do know Le Clair breached the wards at the school, don’t you? That he injured Volkova’s house elf and nearly got his hands on Mr. Potter."

"Henri is angry with Volkova, and you can’t blame him. She killed his partner."

"Recently?"

"Eight years ago in Algiers."

"Ah, too bad. Volkova is under a promise to Dumbledore that she won’t be going about staking anyone. I was hoping it had been recently done. If the Headmaster knew she had killed another since that promise was made, that might have gotten her out of my hair. Why did it take Le Clair nearly a decade to find her? Is he that slow?"

"It might have taken him longer if I hadn’t mentioned that I knew where she was."

"You told Le Clair Volkova was here?"

"Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t dream the man would breach Hogwarts’ protective wards to get at her," Illumina defended. 

"He didn’t really breach them. Volkova’s house elf let him through unknowingly."

"Unknowingly?"

"So Dumbledore believes, but he’s willing to think the best of everyone."

"Luckily for you," Illumina mused. "Henri’s hellbent on killing Volkova. More power to him."

"Seems your Monsieur Le Clair is more than a little hellbent on scooping up Mr. Potter if he can manage it."

"He’s quite a handsome thing. Wouldn’t mind a scoop of that myself."

Harry gulped when he heard the words, and lowered the cowl of the invisibility cloak, letting the cold wind caress his face. She found him attractive?! 

"I’d have to stop Henri if he tried to harm Mr. Potter. You will tell him that, won’t you?" Snape warned.

"If I see him, certainly. Would you stop me too?" she asked, batting her eyes at him as she gave him a devastating smile.

"Did you see anyone on your way here?" Snape questioned, annoyed briefly.

"I circled around several times, saw a group of centaurs, and a forest troll, but no one else."

"I can’t shake the feeling we’re not out here alone though. I tried to talk Dumbledore into allowing you into the school, but he wouldn't listen to reason."

"You’d take me that close to the most decorated vampire killer in the eastern hemisphere? That’s sweet of you, dear, but no thank you," she laughed quickly. "To the matter at hand, before you freeze to death out here."

"I forgot to thank you. I’ve never been served a decree of divorce in a whisper before," Severus said.

"Yes, but you’ve never been divorced from me, have you?"

"I’d like to avoid it now, if possible."

"No. It’s time you moved on, Severus. My condition is never going to change. What I want is for you to find yourself a wonderful young woman and get on with your life. Have a few children. Make merry while you have a chance. I would have thought that when I was declared missing, you would have been able to move on with your life."

"I can’t leave you behind so easily. We made vows to each other, and I meant those vows."

"Those are vows that should have ended when we realized my condition was permanent. It’s cruel of me to tie you to myself, and I won’t go on hurting you."

"I’m not afraid of pain."

"Perhaps you should be. Let this parting be amicable. I want to see you happy."

Severus choked on a dark laugh, coughed it up to the sky as he tilted his head back.

"Yes, I realize that is asking a bit much. You don’t have to be happy then. I’ll settle for mildly pleased every now and again. Is there nothing that gives you pleasure?"Illumina asked.

"Your company."

"This divorce agreement and my company are not mutually exclusive, you know? I will come and see you, as long as you promise to keep that stake-wielding zealot away from me."

"I’d do anything for you, Illumina. You know I would."

"Anything but give Lupin a sweet-sleep potion to use on Lucius Malfoy," she reminded his crisply. Severus didn’t reply, but his expression spoke volumes. "It was unfair of me to put you in the middle between your love for me and your affection for Lucius. I do apologize," Illumina added quickly. 

"The idea of being between you and Lucius isn’t altogether unpleasant," Severus almost smiled.

"I’m sorry about his shocking state of mood, but it couldn’t be helped. I had to get Draco away from Volkova, and the only way to do that was to endanger the only person the boy cares about– his father."

"How did you know she had been using Mr. Malfoy?"

"I may not be allowed in the school, but I certainly can flutter around and perch on whatever window frame I like, can I not? You’d be surprised what I learned, just hanging around."

"How long have you been hanging around?" Severus wanted to know. "Last I heard, you were living in Portugal, but that must have been nine years ago."

"I’ve been around these parts since summer," she admitted.

"I see."

"Professor Malkus asked me to come to London, wanted me to have a copy of the book."

"Hmm," Snape voiced his disapproval.

"Touchy subject," she sighed. "Let’s avoid it, shall we? I ran into Remus in Hogsmeade. He asked for my advice on a matter or two. I asked for his help with Lucius. He was more than willing to oblige me."

"You and Lupin would have made quite a team," Severus said bitterly. Illumina narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.

"No need to be catty."

"You didn’t have to bliss Lucius so hard, did you? Bet you enjoyed it. You never have liked him."

"I over-estimated what an evil prat Lucius is, and gave him too much. I zinged when I should have swished. What can I tell you? Charms are not my forte. You wouldn't help me. I had to do it myself. If you want to blame anyone for what happened to Lucius, blame yourself."

"You risk getting him committed by his family if Narcissa grows weary of him in this happy, laughing, jovial state."

"You always told him he’d regret marrying that creature. I could have proven you right."

"Oh, joy."

"Did you sign the divorce agreement, Severus?" Illumina asked, holding out a hand. He produced a scroll from his cloak, glanced down at it in his grip, and then handed it to her. 

"Yes, with one provision to your agreement.

"What is that?" she asked, putting the scroll in her jacket. 

"Please don’t make me accept that god-forsaken estate."

"It’s a beautiful, vine-covered, sun-drenched paradise that produces the best wine in the entire area."

"I don’t want it," he sulked. 

"What in the hell am I supposed to do with a sun-drenched paradise? Someone should be enjoying the place. Your father sold your ancestral estates when he ‘got religion’ and started making amends to the world. Where are you going to go if you ever leave Hogwarts?"

"I don’t want that estate. There are too many ghosts there," Severus said, bowing his head momentarily. He cleared his throat and looked away. Illumina scooped up his hand and nestled her face against his chest. 

"This isn’t easy for you. I’m so sorry, love. I’d give anything to make this better for you."

"I never assumed we’d last forever. I hoped of course, but never assumed," Severus murmured. They moved into each other’s embrace, and despite his usual good manners, Harry found himself gawking openly in curiosity. He should have tiptoed away long before now. It was making his heart race, watching them kiss, slowly at first, the both of them purring softly with pleasure and pain. 

"Sorry. Did I nick you?" Illumina asked, pulling back. Severus put a hand to his lip, which was dotted with red. She licked her dangerous teeth even as she apologized. "Sorry. So sorry, love."

In reply, Severus pulled her into another kiss. Harry felt his skin going warm, and felt as if his heart would break for Snape. He shouldn’t disturb them, should leave right away, but he was worried that Snape would be in danger. What if Illumina got too rough with him? What if she accidently bit him in the heat of passion or something and turned Severus into one of them? Harry debated with himself as he turned away. 

‘If I interfere, he’ll kill me. But if I don’t interfere, he could die. Undie?’ 

Harry tried to creep away into the night, and felt a hand on his arm. Another hand went over his mouth, muffling his scream. A soft whisper touched his ear.

"Shhhhh," Professor Volkova murmured, wrapping both arms around him and dragging him into deeper shadows. Harry relaxed against her, only to tense up in terror a second time when he contacted with her body. She was wearing a wide belt he had never seen before, one that was hung with all manner of vials. A broad-headed hammer with an ornately-carved handle swung at her left hip, and several sharpened stakes clattered in a pouch on her right hip. In her hand, she carried a short-handled scythe with a gleaming silver edge that picked up the moonlight like a mirror.

Harry leapt away from her like a cat, going for his wand. Unfortunately, he reacted a second too late. Volkova’s spell hit him in the chest and propelled him through the underbrush. He half-landed, half-collided with a large form, and a strong arm went around him to steady him. 

"Mr. Potter," Snape growled.

"Oh fuck," Harry whispered. Snape dropped Harry to the ground on his feet and pulled out his own wand. Harry had no idea where his was, until Volkova stepped into the willow-tree circle holding it.

"You’re going to be in detention until the next Ice Age," Snape whispered venomously to Harry.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," Potter stammered quickly. 

"I wish it hadn’t come to this," Volkova said, dropping Harry’s wand into her cloak hood and putting both hands on her scythe. It glowed brightly as the shape of the blade changed from a c to an elongated t. 

"I’d like to say this is a pleasant surprise, but then we’d both be lying," Illumina replied. "Where in hell did you get a shifting sand?" she asked, indicating the blade that Volkova was wielding. 

"She’s lured you out here to kill you, you realize that, don’t you?" Volkova said to Snape, ignoring Illumina for the time being. Severus, for his part, pulled Harry behind himself, gripping the boy’s arm tightly. Illumina moved forward towards Snape, keeping Harry between them. "Step away from them," Volkova warned Illumina. 

"You’re here to protect me, are you?" Severus asked. "I find that hard to swallow."

"I followed the boy from the castle to make sure he didn’t come to harm," Anna said. 

"You followed a boy wearing an invisibility cloak?" Illumina questioned. Harry looked down, realizing he was visible from the neck up and the waist down as the cloak rustled about in the wind. "I’m not going to hurt Severus. That’s my last intention."

"You’ve got his blood all over your mouth," Volkova growled, pointing her sword at Illumina. 

"Put that thing away before you hurt someone with it," Snape barked at Volkova. He let go of Harry's arm, put away his wand, and brushed off his mouth with a cloak sleeve. "I want you to escort Mr. Potter back to the school, and give me five minutes of peace and quiet without lurking over my shoulder. Is that too much to ask?"

"You’re intruding in personal business, Volkova. You shouldn’t be here," Illumina said. "Neither of you should be here," she added, pinching one of Harry’s ear tips with a grip Aunt Petunia would have envied.

"Ow," Harry wailed, batting at her to make her let go. Illumina snarled at him, and he quit swiping at her, gulping loudly as he eyed her long teeth.

"What are we going to do about them?" Illumina asked Severus.

"We have two choices here," Snape said.

"What are they?" Harry asked him when Illumina finally let go of his ear.

"I can Obliviate the bloody hell out of you both, or you can keep your mouths shut. The rather-unlikely probability of the second happening makes the first option the preferred one," Snape replied.

"There’s no need to resort to violence. You will both return to the castle and keep your mouths shut," Illumina commanded, aiming her voice at Harry and Volkova. From the echo in her voice, Harry could tell without seeing her eyes that Snape’s wife was trying to use her charisma spell on them. The Dark Arts instructor narrowed her eyes and pointed the sword at Illumina.

"You're wasting your breath, and your magic. You have no power over me."

"Each dose of the Gallahad Elixir works for twenty four hours," Snape said. "By my estimation, you’ve been at least an entire day without."

"I’ve taken the elixir long enough that there are lasting effects. And I will find another source soon enough. Don’t you worry about it."

"One dose a day forever. Is that any way to live?" Snape asked. 

"You’re as much a vampire as I am," Illumina murmured. "We merely have different requirements." 

"I’m nothing like you," Volkova hissed. "Nothing."

"What’s wrong?" Snape asked, turning aside as Harry cried out, holding his face and scar.

"We gotta get out of here," Harry whispered. "Volkova! Look out!" he howled, breaking out of Snape’s grip and rushing forward to tug the Dark Arts Instructor out of danger. Professor Volkova rolled out of his grip and roughly to the ground. She came up to a standing position without her sword but carrying one of her vials.

Standing behind her was Henri Le Clair. A cold, liquid splash fanned out from Volkova’s hand. The arc missed Henri but went by Harry’s hand, speckling him with ice-cold water. Henri dodged with impossible speed out of the path of the arc of the rest of the liquid. He bared his long claws and deadly fangs, hissing like a cat on fire.

"Your power is waning, Volkova," he murmured as he and Volkova circled each other in a dangerous, backwards dance. Le Clair sniffed at the air, and grinned wickedly. "You've lost Ivan's charm, haven't you? It only took two hundred years, but one of you finally lost the cursed thing! Finally!" Le Clair chuckled gleefully and advanced.

Volkova nearly stepped on Harry, ushering him out of the reach of Henri’s claws. Potter felt another hand on his back, dragging him by the invisibility cloak. 

"Move, Potter! Move! Get Hagrid as fast as you can," Snape was ordering, trying to pull Harry back. Potter was frozen to the spot though, eyes wide, mouth gaping. He didn’t think he would ever be able to move again. Henri was staring at Harry every half second or so, and his wicked smile grew more and more feral. Potter knew if the vampire managed to get through Volkova, that he was as good as dead. Um, undead.

"Your grandfather– now there was a worthy opponent," Henri taunted Volkova, grinning his midnight smile at her. Anna ‘accio’-ed her sword from the ground and caught it with a lightning-fast flick of her hand. 

"I will kill you for what you did to him," Volkova warned. 

"Now let’s none of us do anything rash," Illumina soothed. "Acting this way in front of an impressionable child. Henri, you should be ashamed."

"Yes, let us settle this rationally," Snape encouraged. 

"Rationally?" Henri scoffed. It seemed to be the only thing Volkova and he agreed on.

"What was rational about him flaying the skin off an ancient, senile wizard before burning him at the stake? Hm? Why should I be rational with this creature?"

"I got your attention, didn’t I?" Henri purred. 

"What I did to Radu in Algiers? That’s going to be but a pleasant memory when I get my hands on you, Le Clair," Volkova hissed at him. 

"Let’s be adults here, shall we?" Snape suggested. "You can have Volkova, and Volkova can have you, and we’ll take the child back to the school, and leave you to settle your dispute," he smiled darkly. Volkova needled Snape with a sneer, and he returned the favor. 

"Who knew you had such wit?"she mocked. 

Henri took advantage of their mutual distraction. He leapt quickly, tearing Harry out of Snape’s grip, and slashing blindly at the professors with his claws. He caught both Volkova and Severus with the swipe, and they bellowed in pain as they dived in opposite directions. Snape was holding his torn shoulder, and Volkova had a trickle of blood down her right cheek. Illumina screamed out and rushed forward. Harry lifted his head as Le Clair pulled him into the air and spun him around by his shoulders. Liquid ruby eyes filled Harry’s vision, and nothing else. 

"Exquisite," Henri whispered appreciatively. Harry couldn’t move, no matter how much he knew he had to pull away. 

"HENRI! DON’T!!" Illumina screamed frantically. 

"Don’t struggle, my precious," Henri whispered again. The vampire's charisma spell went through Harry and nearly stilled his heart with calmness. Powerful arms bent Harry's lithe body like a bow, and long fingers gripped his hair, pulling his head back in order to expose more flesh. The bite was swift and terrible, and burned like fire. Several teeth, not just two of them, sank into the junction between his left shoulder and his neck.

"NOOOO!" Snape bellowed. Unfamiliar pleasure radiated throughout Harry from the point of the bite, as Henri’s tongue darted across his skin inside the radius of the bite. Harry managed to squirm only a little in protest. Every nerve in his body was awake. He felt as if he had turned to air, or to fire. He tried to struggle more, but the sleepy, dreamy feeling washed over him again, sucking away his ability to fight. 

A large, unidentified something collided with Henri, and they were driven them backward into another heavy obstacle. A woman was screaming above Harry, but he couldn't identify the words. He vaguely felt the ground rise up and stick to him. There was an unearthly howling, a good deal of scratching and screaming above him. The vampire’s face was contorting with agony as he was grabbed and bodily thrown aside. 

Harry blinked his eyes to clear the swirling black and golden dots. He could barely make out Hagrid standing over him. A relaxed smile formed on Harry’s mouth as consciousness began to slip away. He mouthed Hagrid’s name as the giant swooped in close. 

"Oh, Harry. Oh, love," Hagrid sobbed. Harry wanted to tell him that it was all right, that he felt so good. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. Reality came back briefly in a rush of moving trees, much too quickly and too soon for Harry’s liking. He was going to be sick. He was feeling incredibly nauseous. He was being shaken around, jarred up and down. 

"Put me down," Harry moaned against the giant.

"You hang on now, you hear me?" Hagrid panted. Harry was bundled against the giant’s chest as Hagrid raced through the forest with a swiftness born of terror. Harry’s floating feeling was returning. He could feel Hagrid’s heart pounding in time with his own. It was going to be all right. He knew it was going to be all right. He felt peaceful.


	34. November Abridged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a bit slashy; snape being comforting and gentle(!); the fic 'hounds of winter' is this chapter in story form from snape's pov.

It was all very weird, really. First there was the peaceful, floating feeling. It was followed by an icy quaking that stayed with Harry for days, it seemed. He couldn’t get warm. Wherever he was lying, he was freezing cold. It made sense that he would be continuously cold if he were dead, and so he resigned himself to the idea that after death, there was dark and cold and not much else. He could sense there was at least one person nearby at all times, and more often than not, it was the same person, but he wasn’t sure who. There was an occasional odd smell, like burning candles or incense, and he had an herbal tea taste in his mouth. Other than that, nothing. It got boring quickly, and he began to let his imagination run away. 

The dreams began, and Harry decided if he was dreaming, certainly he was continuing to exist, because dead people don’t dream. At least he didn’t believe he’d heard anything about dreams after death. Unless, he wondered, the dreams were the only reality after death. He decided he should have asked Nearly Headless Nick more about what it was like being dead. 

The dreams were filled with things Harry wouldn’t have thought up on his own, fantastical things like about being emperor of the universe, and throwing around moons and stars to decorate the heavens. Idiotic sort of dream for the average sixteen year old. Of course, he had the emperor dream several times, and it always ended badly. Each time, Ron was there, and Ron would betray him. One time he imprisoned Harry in ice. Another time, he sent him into a bottomless hole. It got to where, as emperor, Harry began to distance himself from everyone with red hair, except that he could never quite manage to send Ron away, even knowing Weasley was going to do him in in the end. 

There were also dreams about sex– sex involving everyone Harry knew or had ever met. One at a time, two at a time, whole groups of people having sex, and even with Harry once in a while. They involved things that Harry would have considered distasteful or shocking, or even dangerous. At first the sex was extremely fascinating, but the charm wore off quicker than he thought it would. The sex dreams became increasingly more violent and dark, not at all what Harry thought he’d ever want. Embarrassed, he shooed the dreams away, but they crept back in on him every so often.

It took a little time, but Harry started worrying that he was still alive, and in a coma or a vegetative state. He tried experimentally to move his limbs, any of them, and at first found them too heavy to lift. As time went by, he made good progress with the right arm, but someone, SOMEONE ELSE, kept putting it back where it began. How annoying was that! Harry growled at them, and was sure he heard a deep chuckle. He worked up his strength, took a deep breath, and lifted his arm again. This time he heard a voice next to him as the arm was put back into place.

"Making you angry, am I?"

The voice was familiar, but warmer and closer than before. Harry hauled his arm up again, and felt fingers slide over it, bristly and wet. They felt like big cat tongues. He jolted in surprise as the hand went under his elbow and down his ribs. He clenched his fingers tightly and found they were holding material. He growled again, squeezing tighter.

"That’s enough of that," the man scolded gently. The cat tongues lingered over his chest, moving in slow circles. It dawned on Harry that it was probably fingers inside a wash cloth, and that whoever this was, they were giving him a sponge bath. Who in the world would be doing something like that? He struggled to open his eyes, but the lids were uncooperative. He wrestled them open a mere slit, and found only blackness. How odd. Harry pulled on the material still clutched in his right hand. The someone bathing him slid an arm under his back, pulling him into a sitting position. Harry protested with a groan as the world swam with nausea and pain. Oh no. He wanted to be horizontal again as soon as possible.

That settled it for Harry. He had to be alive. He was in a cold, dark place. Someone was bathing him. He was nauseous and in pain. He could growl, and he could use his right arm. It wasn’t much, but he could work with it. Right now, he wanted to sleep again for a while though. He felt queasy and empty. Probably hungry too. 

The queasiness had passed by the time Harry woke again. It had been replaced by a lovely floating feeling. Harry purred with relief, and found he could stretch his arms and legs both. How wonderful that felt!

"I’m so glad you’re enjoying the levitation side-effect. You’d better never do that in front of Dumbledore though."

A deep voice startled Harry, and he felt a heavy thud under his body as the bed rose up and snatched at him. Harry complained bitterly. 

"No need to fuss," the other voice said. "I’m sure the levitation will return once you're asleep again."

A strong arm lifted Harry to rest against a warm shoulder and broad chest, nearly smashing his nose flat. Someone was slipping his shirt down his back. The silky material slid away from his body, pooling behind him. Fingers smoothed slippery warmth deep inside the aching spot on the junction between his neck and left shoulder. Harry winced at the warmth as it turned hot. He protested with a shudder, and a small sob left his mouth. He pulled his arms between himself and the broad chest in front of him.

"Shhhh."

The rubbing continued, and it seemed to ease the burning somewhat. Harry lowered his arms and leaned against the shoulder again. 

"It’s working, isn’t it? Hmmm? Don't fuss. It's going to start feeling better soon. I promise." 

Harry recognized the hum of Severus Snape’s voice, and shivered when he felt breath against his cheek, the touch of soft lips against his skin. Harry inhaled in surprise at the tender kiss, and tried to turn his head to look around. The room was entirely black but for a slit of light, and it smelled heavily of incense. If he tilted his head the right way, it was as if there were a door and a threshold about six inches away. It would have made the door about knee high if Harry were lying in bed. That couldn’t be right. He rubbed his face against Snape’s shoulder, and found that instead of the room being dark, he was wearing a blindfold. Where in the hell was he? Why was he wearing a blindfold? Harry raised a fumbling hand towards the general direction of his own face. Snape’s shoulder and chest quaked as the Potions Master chuckled softly. 

"Oh, yes. You are coming around, aren’t you? Very good. Very good. I will alert the Headmaster at once. He’ll be so pleased."

Snape made as if to move away, but Harry clutched at him tightly. Panic made his heart race. 

"Don’t worry. I’ll be right back," Severus murmured gently. He dotted a kiss on Harry's forehead. "Don’t be afraid."

The bed swayed as Snape stood up. Harry tentatively moved his fingers upwards, starting at his chin. A thick band of velvet was indeed tied over his eyes. It wasn’t tight enough to be binding, but no amount of tugging removed it, either. It was more than secure enough to stay in place, and he understood that was probably the plan.

Curious, Harry stretched out his fingers along the surface he was lying on, and confirmed his guess that it was a bed. Apparently it was a large bed, because he had to lie down to reach the side. Lying down felt good, because he was dizzy suddenly. He stayed on his left side, breathing deeply until he could gain his focus once more. Harry wasn’t even aware that he had fallen asleep. Footsteps approached, and hands delicately lifted him. He was rearranged under the covers, tucked in carefully around the edges. Someone was caressing his hair, cupping the back of his head.

"Harry?" Dumbledore sounded worried and out of breath. "Is that normal, Severus?"

"Yes, he will tire out quickly for a few weeks," Snape murmured. "He should come around again in seven hours or so."

"That long?"

"Between seven and eight hours seems to be his normal sleep cycle."

‘I’ll show you,’ Harry thought drowsily. ‘I’ll be awake again in an hour. Just you wait and see.’

Even as sleep was dragging him under, Harry struggled back to the surface. But the struggle wore him down, and he eventually gave up. He was aware of people moving around him, and he grew more hungry the closer they were to him. But the need to sleep kept him from waking long enough to feed. When he came around the next time for more than a blink of time, a different voice and smell were close-by. 

"Ginny was so excited, Harry. She didn’t want to give the snitch up. She wrote your name on it and sent it with me to give to you. You should have seen McGonagall trying not to cry."

Harry squeezed the fingers of his right hand and found that they were intertwined with someone else’s. The other fingers jumped away from him in panic. 

"PROFESSOR! HE’S AWAKE!!!" Ron’s voice echoed into every cell in Harry’s body, causing intense pain. Harry’s eyes were watering from the effort to keep conscious.

"Mr. Weasley, keep your voice down."

"Should I keep talking to him?"

"I warned you that he will be ultra sensitive."

"Right. You said sight and smell and taste."

"Sound as well. Keep your voice down," Snape repeated, moving away. "Touch very gently. Talk in a normal tone. Try not to startle him," he recommended, his voice getting dimmer. Ron’s fingers returned. Harry wanted to smile or sit up, but the idea of the effort it would take made him too tired to try. 

"What should I talk about?" Ron asked almost rhetorically.

"What do you usually talk about?" Snape called from across the room.

"What a loathsome, annoying git you are," Ron whispered. Harry pushed all his effort behind a belly laugh, and managed a weak smile. Ron’s resulting laughter rolled loudly in the room, followed quickly by the sound of Ron crying. "He’s awake. You’re awake. Oh, Harry! I’ve been so worried."

"For Merlin’s sake, Weasley. Stop sobbing all over him," Snape muttered from the door. 

"Sod off," Ron mumbled, his wet face pressed against Harry’s neck. "Okay. I’ll talk. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk until you do something else to let me know you’re there." 

Harry hoped Ron wasn’t expecting much, because sleep was already nipping at him once more. Except that the closer Ron got, and the longer he stayed, the stronger Harry felt. Harry was kind of angry still about the whole ‘emperor of the universe’ dream thing, but that was a dream, after all, and this was Ron, and Ron was right here, and why had he never noticed before how delicious Ron smelled?? Weasley popped up from the bed, cleared his throat, and pushed a fluttering object into one of Harry’s hands.

"There. That’s from Ginny. She said you should have it, because it would give you something familiar to concentrate on. We beat Hufflepuff, 250 to 100."

Ron cleared his throat again, helping Harry curl his fingers around the small object. Harry felt the whipping of small wings. The snitch was trying to get away from him. He held on as tight as he could. 

"I don’t know where to begin, Harry. Your stomach is growling. Are you hungry? Do you want some food? How about something to drink? Do you want me to read to you? I’d bring Hermione down, but Snape said no one else but me. And only me because you had called for me in your sleep. What were you dreaming, Harry?"

Harry wondered when he had said Ron’s name in a good way, and not followed by the nasty vulgarities he had shouted the several times Weasley had managed to undo him and steal his throne. An image returned to Harry. It was one of the more erotic sex dreams that he had had, one of being curled up under the covers of Ron’s bed with him in the Burrow-- so many wonderful tastes and touches. Harry couldn’t remember ever having thought about having sex with Ron before, except when teasing Draco about the graffiti he had drawn in his Transfiguration notes, and that was just a fear that Ron would think Harry really wanted to have sex with him. But Ron was attractive in that tall, red-headed goofy way that could be very appealing. Harry wondered if Ron would have been annoyed about the dream. Then he wondered if Ron would kiss him now.

"Um....Harry....I don’t know if you can really hear me, but I just want you to know that whatever happens, you can count on me, okay? Snape said it could take a while for you to be yourself again. But you can count on me."

That was good to know. But Harry really wanted Ron to kiss him. Right now. Just one teeny little kiss. On the neck. On the mouth. On the cheek. Anywhere. He willed Ron to come closer. 

"Harry? What are you thinking about?" Ron whispered, very very close indeed. "You’re not going to try and bite me again, are you?"

Harry could feel Ron leaning over him, could feel soft breath against his cheek. Harry felt and heard his own stomach growl loudly. He could sense the pulse of Ron’s heart, and could smell the distinct scent of Gryffindor Tower on his clothes. His heart began to ache. He wasn’t in the tower? Where was he? This wasn’t the hospital ward. That didn’t matter at the moment. He’d feel sad later. Ron was closer. 

"This is really weird, Harry," he murmured. "I’ve never thought about kissing you before, but it’s all I can think about. I’m really sorry."

‘Don’t be sorry, damn it. Just kiss me,’ Harry thought. The tip of Ron’s nose brushed Harry’s cheek, and soft lips touched his. Harry melted as the sensation rolled over him. He was more than beginning to enjoy the feeling when a deep voice boomed in the bedroom.

"POTTER! STOP IT! STOP IT! WEASLEY! GET BACK!"

"I’m sorry, Professor," Ron whimpered, withdrawing from Harry’s side.

"Did you lift his blindfold?" Snape demanded, lowering his voice.

"No. No, sir. I was leaning over him talking, and suddenly kissing him was all I could think about. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never wanted to kiss him before."

"Stop sniveling, Weasley."

"I’m not sniveling." 

"Try not to get as close to him."

"I didn’t mean to do it," Ron was crying quietly.

"Weasley, if you don’t stop sniveling, you’re going to leave."

A hand touched Harry’s face, adjusting the blindfold. Angry, Harry opened his mouth and lunged. Extreme satisfaction filled him when he heard Snape bellow in alarm. The hand was yanked away, but not before Harry got a lick at the salty skin. He’d nearly gotten his teeth into Severus. 

"Sir?! What should I do?" Ron gasped. Harry sensed Snape leaning over him, and he bared his teeth, growling again. To his surprise, the bed began feeling softer, or perhaps it wasn’t the bed. 

"Sir, he’s levitating again," Ron whispered. "Not as high as before, but he’s up an inch or two at least."

"Thank you, Weasley. I can see for myself."

"What does it mean, sir?"

"It means I’ve got more work to do. You should return to the Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Weasley, for your own safety."

"Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Yes, but only if you promise to remember what I said about the charisma spell."

"I didn’t touch his blindfold. I swear."

"Good night, Mr. Weasley. Take that snitch with you. Be sure and close the inner and outer doors very tightly behind yourself."

Harry whimpered softly as he felt Ron getting further away. What’s more, his stomach gurgled loudly.

"Keep going, Mr. Weasley. I’m not going to hurt him," Snape murmured. "As for you, Mr. Potter. Come down from there at once." 

Harry reached out a hand, and felt the bed jump up and grab his back. 

"That’s better," Snape whispered. "We’re going to come to an understanding, Mr. Potter. No biting, and no using the charisma spell on me or your visitors."

Harry’s stomach growled loudly in reply.

"I know you’re hungry, but it’s not allowed. I will bring you a suitable dinner, and more potion. Try to stay awake ten minutes, will you? Or it’s not going to be pretty getting it down your throat. You’ve already had one bath today. Do you really want another?"

No, what Harry wanted was another chance to bite Snape. If he played his cards right, he was sure he’d get it too. Ten minutes? He could stay awake ten hours if it meant he could sink his teeth in for real.

Harry jolted awake when he felt the tender touch of fingertips caressing the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. Had it been ten minutes yet? Where was dinner? He was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. He lifted his eyes to find even dim light was irritating. Severus Snape’s dark eyes and pointed beak came into view, too briefly. A large hand moved over Harry’s face. 

"Potter. Close your eyes."

Harry wondered what the fuss was all about. He mouthed ‘why?’ but no sound came out.

"Are they closed?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. Snape lowered his hand tentatively. "A necessary precaution, Mr. Potter."

‘Why?’ Harry mouthed again. His voice wasn’t working. That was odd. 

"Think you can stay awake more than five minutes this time?"

‘What." Harry struggled with his voice. ‘What happened?’

"What happened?" Snape murmured. "Again? I’ve told you three times already. You don’t remember?"

Harry shook his head no. Snape gave an annoyed sigh.

"All right. But this time, take notes. Let me get you comfortable. Do not open your eyes."

A wet wash cloth moved over Harry’s face, dragged by long fingers that edged into his brow and down over the tops of his cheeks, around the hollows of his eyes. 

"Do you remember Halloween night?"

Harry concentrated, and recalled candy apples, pumpkins and bats, and Hermione and Ron bickering at the Gryffindor Table. He nodded slowly.

"Do you remember being bitten?" Snape whispered cautiously. Harry shook his head no, although the image of a man with red eyes and a French accent nagged at him. Harry shivered when Snape began to unbutton his shirt. "Don’t worry," Snape soothed, his voice gentle. "I need to put on the anti-venom. Hold still. Try not to squirm."

The moment the long fingertips moved over the junction of his neck and left shoulder, Harry shivered again. He opened his mouth to protest, and no sound emerged.

"I’m sorry. I had to take away your voice. You were casting spells in your sleep, conjuring things, doing the kind of wandless magic that would make a lesser wizard drop from exhaustion. Wandless magic! At your age! In your condition! I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to vanquish your Patronus. This room was literally filled with roving fancies. I had to get Hagrid’s help with the Norwegian Ridgeback. The laryngitis is only temporary, I assure you, as is the blindfold. If you want to talk for a little while, I can remove the spell. But only if you promise to be on your best behavior."

Harry nodded. Snape stopped rubbing what Harry presumed was his bite mark. 

"Finite laryngitis," Severus murmured. Harry felt the poke of a wand against his throat. "There. Give it a try." A dull clattering told Harry Snape had set down his wand on a nearby wooden surface.

"Stop," Harry whispered. His voice was coarse and deep.

"Limit yourself to one or two words at a time."

"Stop," Harry said. Snape’s hand left the bite mark again. "Hurts."

"I know. I do apologize. You’re very sensitive. I’ll be more gentle," Snape promised. "It has to be done though. The reversal is nearly complete. You don’t want me to stop, do you?"

"Reversal?" Harry seized on the word as Snape’s fingers and the burning sensation returned. Snape sighed dramatically.

"You really don’t remember what I told you? It was yesterday, Harry."

"No."

"In short, on Halloween night, you were bitten by Henri Philippe Le Clair, a five-hundred fifty year old vampire and wizard. Through the use of an anti-venom and a cleansing potion, the Canis Capellum, I’ve managed to reverse the majority of the changes that occurred because of the bite. You can thank me later," he added dryly. 

"Canis what?"

"Latin, Mr. Potter, for hair of the dog. I’m going to have to improve your Latin skills, aren’t I? Mr. Le Clair was kind enough to donate his own blood to be used, kind enough because I told him if he didn’t, I’d let Remus Lupin know where he was hiding himself."

"What?"

"I tried the same potion years ago on Illumina, and had negative results. Frankly, I’m shocked it worked this time. But perhaps because the bite was fresh and I was able to have the blood of the one who bit you. I don’t know why it worked this time. Like Lucius Malfoy, perhaps you were born with a horseshoe up your derriere."

" ‘Lumina," Harry whispered.

"She has gone back into hiding; I insisted on it, for her own protection."

"Volkova," Harry lurched forward, sitting half-way up. 

"It is coming back to you. Good. Volkova followed you into the forest, after you followed me into the forest. You will be in detention until you graduate. But truly, I should have never been there in the first place. Dumbledore took off a layer of my skin, he was so angry with me."

Harry sure hoped that was a figure of speech. Snape appeared to be finished poking at the bite. Harry wanted to look at it, but found he didn’t have his glasses on. No point in even trying. He raised a hand to try and touch it, and felt the raised points of scars in a large radius on his skin. He shivered and remained sitting up while Severus scooted over the side of the bed.

"Volkova followed you, tried to attack Illumina, and drew Le Clair out of his hiding place in the forest. You got in the way between Le Clair and Volkova. Chalk up another deed to Gryffindor courage," he smirked darkly. "Well, no matter. Illumina took Le Clair and disappeared before Volkova could regain her senses. Volkova, more’s the pity, is still here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore insists on keeping her around, but he took away her hammer and stakes. He even took away her shifting sand. She was crushed by that."

"Hmph," Harry coughed. 

"Yes. My sentiments exactly. She’s been sniffing around down here trying to find you, but don’t let that trouble you. You are as safe in here as if you were in a Gringotts bank vault. If she harms one hair on your head, I’ll stake her with her own wood."

"Dungeon?"

Snape laughed softly, sitting closer again. 

"Yes, you’re in the dungeon. If you close your eyes and listen very closely, I’ll bet you can hear the students in the Slytherin Common Room. No peeking. Keep your eyes closed. I’m going to put a goblet to your face. You are going to drink the contents of the goblet."

"Potion?"

"Yes. It’s going to taste disgusting, but you’re going to drink it."

Harry nodded. Snape put the cold metal to Harry’s mouth, and Harry tried his best to swallow the foul-smelling, thick concoction inside. It took an eternity for the goblet to be emptied. Harry sat still after Snape moved away again. He swallowed repeatedly, but the horrible taste wouldn’t go away. Curdled warm milk or sour something. Ugh. Was that a leg caught on his tongue? He swallowed again, feeling bile in his throat. No. Come on. It was a small bent piece of herb, right? Sure felt like a leg– sticky at the end with feelers. Ewww.

"Here. Mostly water this time, with a bit of lemon and what-have-you. It’ll taste much better."

The goblet returned, and Harry drank thirstily. Whatever it was, the first taste was disappearing, replaced by cool sweetness. He couldn’t get enough of this down his throat fast enough. The thing on his tongue was gone anyway, and that was very important. His hunger was disappearing too.

"Better?" Snape asked. Harry reached for the goblet again. "More?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded. Snape held the goblet to Harry’s mouth a third time. "I shall continue the narrative while we get you comfortable. If the restorative potion does what it’s supposed to do, your physical sensitivity will lessen. It’s already better."

Snape took the goblet away, and wiped Harry’s mouth with a quick, terry-cloth textured pat. He lowered Harry’s shirt off his shoulders, quickly replacing it with another. The silken material teased and tickled. It was like being covered in pudding out of the fridge. Harry let his fingers cup inside the cuffs of the sleeves, and pulled the material to his face, where he rubbed his cheeks and mouth with it. He’d never felt anything so wonderful in all his life. Whose pajamas were these though? He didn’t own anything this nice.

"Could you lie down a bit? It’s easier to get your bottoms off if you’re horizontal."

Harry gasped in horror, grabbing the waistband of his clothes and holding tight. 

"What? You’re not going to get shy on me at this point, are you?" Snape mused, pushing him flat against the pillows. "Who do you think has been doing this for two weeks?"

Harry wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the idea that he’d been out of it for two entire weeks, or that Snape had been dressing and undressing him during that time. Also, he’d presumably been the one bathing him. Harry went hot and cold with that distressing thought. Snape’s long hands slid inside Harry’s waist, lowering his pajamas down his hips and thighs, off his legs. No sooner were the pants gone than they were replaced by cool, pudding-smooth material like the top Harry was already wearing. That hadn’t been all bad. Snape had had very gentle hands, actually. Harry trembled and reached for one hand with both of his. Severus paused, letting him hold on.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "I'm sorry if it's a terrible shock to wake up and find you're with me, but I'm afraid there was no other choice. Well, there was a choice, but it couldn't be taken, if you must know. Madam Pomfrey wanted to transfer you to St. Mungo’s right away, because she’s not equipped to handle this sort of serious injury. I told Dumbledore that it would be an egregious mistake to let the entire wizarding world know what had happened to you. I offered to take it upon myself to see what could be done for you, if he would let me. If I failed, he could send you to St. Mungo’s, and me to Azkaban."

Harry opened his eyes when Snape brought him into a seated position.

"You can thank me later," Severus repeated dryly. He didn’t feel Harry staring at him, but began to button the boy’s shirt from bottom to top. Whose clothes were these, Harry puzzled. "Here you are. Here we are. There it is. You have to keep them closed, Harry," Snape murmured finally, reaching the top button. Harry stared at Snape blandly, and tried to catch his gaze. Snape kept his eyes averted. "Now’s the point where I tell you about the after-effects you have to watch out for, starting with the charisma spell I can’t seem to rid you of." He put a hand over Harry’s eyes, and leaned their foreheads together. "Close them."

"No."

"Don’t be peevish."

"Mirror," Harry demanded.

"You ungrateful little masochist! Not after last time."

"Last time?"

"I gave you the mirror. You screamed and passed out. Dumbledore heard you all the way up in his office. He came down here and spent three hours ripping me apart."

"Mirror," Harry repeated, putting out his hand to search for the edge of the bed.

"You know, I have a wand, Mr. Potter, and I’m not afraid to use it. Maybe I’ll use my hand instead. You’ve needed a good spanking since you stepped off the boat six years ago."

Harry scrambled out of Snape’s grip and rolled for the side of the bed. Severus quickly latched onto the struggling teen and pulled him back into the middle of the mattress. Harry began to kick and squirm, but his strength really wasn’t up to that at this point. Snape pinned him down on his stomach at first and gave him a single quick rap on the backside with a broad palm. Harry jolted in shock, and spun over. His teeth were bared, and he was growling fiercely. Snape held him carefully if firmly, pushing Harry’s back flat to the mattress. Harry struggled for a moment, but then lay still, waiting, breathing heavily. He gave a soft cry of protest, turning his face away from Snape's.

"I haven't hurt you, have I?" Severus whispered. He dipped down too low, trying to find out, and Harry took advantage. He focused both eyes right into Snape’s at a distance of about an inch. He could almost see Severus’s eyes turn circles upon themselves.

"Mirror," Harry repeated.

"I’ll see where I put it," Snape replied, his jaw slack. He let go of Harry’s wrists and went to search.

Harry remained horizontal, waiting and smiling. Snape returned, his eyes glazed. He shook his head, and sat down unsteadily on the side of the bed. Harry scooted carefully next to him, and took the hand mirror that Snape had brought him. After he labored to pull himself upright, Harry turned over the mirror to peer inside its silvery depths.

His face echoed back at him, translucent and pale. His glasses were missing, so he had to hold the mirror right up next to his face. His eyes weren’t entirely strange– bottle-glass green for the most part, except for a thin rim of red around the iris of his left eye. Odd. He put the mirror next to his mouth and peered at his teeth. Although the canines were slightly exaggerated, they didn’t appear too abnormal. Harry slipped the mirror back into Snape’s grip. The changes weren’t that drastic, and they probably weren’t going to be permanent, Harry decided. Snape had said the potions were reversing the changes. He didn’t see anything to be upset about. Why had he screamed last time? 

"Are you reflecting yet?" Snape asked casually.

"Yes. Thank you," Harry whispered, smiling a bit. Oh. No reflection last time? Yes, that would have merited a hearty scream or two.

"Is there anything else you require?" Snape asked.

"Very tired," Harry whispered, sinking himself against Snape’s shoulder, which suddenly seemed more warm and inviting than it had ever before. ‘Hold me’, he thought, and to his surprise, Snape’s hands slid around his waist and up his back. ‘He’s hugging me,’ Harry thought, suppressing a giggle when he felt the mirror thump against his shoulder. ‘Put the mirror down first,’ Harry mentally chided. Snape put the mirror on the side table, and resumed the holding position.

"I could sit with you while you rest," Severus replied. Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes. Snape put Harry under the covers and sat obediently on the side of the bed. Well this was interesting, Harry decided, but not as nice as it would be to have someone under the covers with him. Severus crawled inside without a word, putting his long legs next to Harry’s and getting comfortable. Snape opened his arms, and Harry nestled nervously inside the offered embrace. He put his chin against Snape’s shoulder and sighed. There was only one thing this was missing. 

No sooner had Potter given the idea thought than Snape’s long fingers moved delicately into Harry’s wild locks. He knew Snape was going to be livid with anger when he woke up out of the spell, but all in all, this was perfectly wonderful. It filled Potter from head to toe with warmth. As he was falling asleep, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this were the first time he’d managed to charisma Snape in the last two weeks.


	35. Tokens of Atonement

"I can’t believe it’s going to be Christmas in two weeks!" Ron exclaimed as he and Hermione moved quickly through the courtyard hallway and nodded hello to the professors gathered under one of the archways. Heavy snow had been falling since before dawn, and the school grounds were getting a thick, frosted layer of white.

"You signed up to stay, didn’t you?" Hermione asked Ron. 

"Course I did," he replied, turning quickly. "Think I’d go off and leave Harry at a time like this? Where’d he go?"

"Rough-housing with Hagrid," Hermione motioned towards the giant’s hut unseen but nearby.

"One moment, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said. She paused Ron as he tried to go by, straightening his collar and tie. "Don’t you look in the mirror before you leave the dorm?" she asked sternly. She picked up the shoulders of his robe and straightened it as well. "Go on then," she motioned to the Transfiguration classroom. 

"Have you seen Severus this morning?" Dumbledore asked, flipping his sleeve cuff out of the way.

"He was at breakfast for a cup of tea, long enough to mutter about the weather and disappear again."

"And Anna?"

"She was trying to talk the house elves into a second pot of coffee. You’re going to let her go on making that elixir?"

"She’s completely addicted to it, Minerva. If I don’t let her make it, she could die from withdrawal symptoms, or from simple paranoia."

"But she requires certain–"

"I know what she requires. We will find an alternative source other than the students."

"Oh will you? Where exactly?" 

"I've already put her into contact with someone who can help."

"Did we do the right thing, letting her remain?" McGonagall asked. "I know she didn't technically do anything wrong, that Mr. Malfoy is of the age where he can consent if he chooses, but honestly, Headmaster, doesn't it give you pause?"

"No," Dumbledore answered, more quickly than McGonagall should have thought proper. "Have there been any further blow-ups between Professor Volkova and Professor Snape?"

"Aside from the random, anonymous acts of violence, no," McGonagall smiled faintly.

"You have to stay out of it, Minerva," Dumbledore cautioned.

"I know. I can’t go around fixing things for Severus."

"No, you can’t. You’re not his mother. He’s old enough to fix his own mistakes."

"I may not be his mother, but I will always care about him. You don’t stop caring about your students when they become adults, you know?"

"Stay out of it, Minerva," Albus smiled.

"I’m trying," she replied. A shadow of black crossed into view, contrasting sharply with the snowfall.

"Good morning," Snape murmured to them, still drinking dark tea from a large mug. "Professor McGonagall, the music you requested from Professor Flitwick. It must have been put in my box by mistake."

"Caroling!" Dumbledore beamed, reading over Minerva’s shoulder as she flipped through page after page of staves and notes.

"Six o’clock tonight, starting in the main hall," McGonagall replied. "We can always use another caroler, Severus," she hinted. The look she received in reply would have frightened most other people. "You have such a beautiful singing voice. Why do you deprive us of your company?"

"You know how I detest caroling," Snape growled. 

"How was your weekend? How is Lucius doing? I see Draco is back," she added, watching Malfoy strut his way down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle not far behind.

"Lucius stopped giving away the family fortune, and has agreed to wear trousers again," Snape winced. "He followed Narcissa around the manor like a lovesick puppy, making love twelve times a day. I spent more time in the library than I did visiting with him or Draco either one."

"I’m sorry," McGonagall said, patting his arm. 

Draco nodded to Snape before ducking into the Transfigurations classroom. 

"Any ideas on how long that bliss spell will hold out?" McGonagall asked. Snape shook his head no. "Think Illumina would teach it to me?" she asked, giving a half smile. Snape glared at her. No doubt about who she wanted to bliss, was there?

"Where’s Harry this morning?" Dumbledore asked.

"Coming through. One side. One side. Look out!"

The three professors dodged to opposite sides of the archway as Hagrid came streaking across the courtyard and barreled past them. He dodged into the side corridor and stood perfectly still, heaving for breath. From an opposite archway, Harry came running at top speed, dusting off the enormous amounts of snow covering his head and shoulders. He came to a neck-breaking halt and stared around the courtyard with narrowed eyes. 

"Hagrid!" he called hoarsely, darting a hand up to straighten his glasses before stooping to scoop up two handfuls of snow. He clapped them together and prowled across the courtyard. Hagrid burst out of the corridor, running full tilt across the stones and into the yard itself, looking like a furry freight train. Harry gasped in alarm, dropped his snowball, and ran in the other direction, but he didn’t get far. Hagrid skidded on his stomach, grabbed both ankles, and wrenched the fleeing Harry to the snowy ground. Screams and laughter echoed in the courtyard as Hagrid began stuffing snow inside Harry’s clothes, growling at him and rolling him around roughly. 

"AAAAAAH! Back! Back! Off! Back!" Harry squeaked, batting at Hagrid. 

"Are you going to let them carry on like that?" McGonagall fretted to Dumbledore. "The boy’s been up and around for less than two weeks. You sure he’s ready to be manhandled?" 

"Yes. Briefly. How long until class?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Six minutes," Snape murmured. 

"How is Mr. Potter’s condition? He sounds hoarse yet."

"Necessary, I’m afraid."

"Think we can fix him soon?" Dumbledore asked Snape.

"I'm on my last list of possible potion remedies," Snape replied. "If none of these work, I may have to resort to another library."

"Don't despair. You've made tremendous progress with him. At least he’s not still wearing dark glasses. That was difficult to explain away."

"I feel sure I'm close," Snape answered.

"Hagrid is going to give that child his death in a cold," Minerva worried. Hagrid pulled Harry to his feet and dusted him off roughly. Harry was shaking snow out of his ears and off his robe. 

"Bloody hell," he sputtered, kicking off one shoe and dancing around a little before putting it back on.

"That’s enough of that. Off to class with you. Go on," Hagrid gruffed, wrapping the scarlet and gold scarf loosely around the boy’s neck. Harry waved bye and crossed the courtyard much more calmly this time. Hagrid waved to Harry, and to the professors before trudging back off and out of the courtyard. 

"Morning," Harry whispered as he passed next to the professors, pausing to clean the snow off his glasses. He winced when McGonagall straightened his collar and cold snow slid down his warm back. "Oh..." Harry complained, squirming around. 

"Fix your tie, Mr. Potter," she scolded tenderly. 

"Duck!" Dumbledore shouted. McGonagall yanked Harry up against the inner wall of the open corridor, shielding him with her cloak. Severus’s mug shattered on the stones. Students came rushing to the doors of both the nearest classrooms. Dumbledore stooped to pick up his fallen hat. Snape lifted his arm to raise the impressively stern bird that had careened out of nowhere to land practically on their heads. Why it had clasped itself to Snape’s forearm was anyone’s guess. 

"Raven, actually," he corrected. The black-winged fowl stuck a foot at him. He detached the letter he found. "Mr. Potter. It’s for you."

"Oh," Harry whispered, surprised. He stuck out a hand, and Snape gave it to him.

"Who’s it from, Harry?" Ron called, coming back out of the classroom to stand beside him. Harry shrugged. With clumsy, gloved fingers, he unfurled the small scroll and scanned through the floridly scripted lines. Slowly, Harry’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head in disbelief. Weasley leaned over his shoulder. 

" _‘Dear Mr. Potter'_ ," Ron read aloud for those in earshot. " _‘I want to profusely apologize for the little misunderstanding we had on Halloween. I do hope my tokens of atonement will somehow make amends for the terrible torment you have endured these last few weeks. I would have written sooner, but am only now recovering from what I can assure you was one of the most excruciating hangovers I’ve ever had the displeasure to experience. Congratulations. I believe you're poisonous. You have my solemn word there will be no further attempts on my part to cause further injury to your most exquisite person. Please be sure to convey this promise to the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and especially to your guardian, Monsieur Remus Lupin. If you will permit me one indulgence, I would like to call on you from time to time, at your pleasure of course. Wishing you long life and good health, Monsieur Henri Philippe Le Clair.’_ "

Harry rolled up the scroll and exchanged a bewildered shrug with Ron. 

"Cool, Harry. You're poisonous," Ron chuckled. McGonagall shook her head, and Snape frowned menacingly at Weasley. "At least he apologized," Ron added. Harry nodded in agreement. The stately raven perched on Snape's arm gave a single squawk and shuddered violently. Severus quickly yanked his arm out of the way. A burst of black feathers filled the air in a swirl, and a black velvet bag clunked to the stones below. Snape swooped gracefully to retrieve the bag, handing it to Harry.

"The aforementioned tokens of atonement, we can only assume," Snape said. 

"Open it up," Ron urged. Harry carefully nudged a couple wool-covered fingers inside the velvet and loosened the strings holding the pouch closed. He tipped the contents into his palm, and caught his breath in surprise at the sea of green that covered his hand.

"Oh, emeralds," McGonagall gasped. Several gems filled Harry’s paw. Each of the professors picked up a stone to examine, holding them to the light. Ron picked up one in each hand. 

"Emeralds, quite correct," Severus reported. "Flawless. Beautiful."

"Expensive," Dumbledore whistled.

"Wow," Ron laughed. "Good taste, this Henri fellow."

"Wow," Harry echoed softly.

"Here you are," Dumbledore said, putting the stone back in Harry’s grip. "Best put those away for safe keeping," he advised. 

"It’s a king’s ransom, easily," said McGonagall. 

"Fine taste in gems," Snape admired. Severus moved to put the stone back in Harry’s grip. He gazed closely at Harry for half a second, and closed his mouth around a wicked thought that had jumped into his mind and displayed itself on his face. Weasley held one of the emeralds up against Harry’s forehead. 

"They match your eyes," Ron murmured. Harry shook his head no. "Yes, they do. Every last one of them," Ron argued. "Must have taken forever to get ones all the correct shade," Weasley laughed. Ron whispered in Harry’s ear, "Maybe your blood isn’t all he wanted to suck." 

Snape heard enough of the words to understand the gist of what Weasley must have been implying. McGonagall must have heard too. Her eyes flared wide, and she cleared her throat. 

"Into the classroom, gentlemen," she ordered. 

Harry hid the pouch of gems inside his robe, blushing furiously. The boys hurried into the Transfigurations room behind McGonagall, where Ron loudly announced Harry to the class.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the most exquisite Mr. Harry Potter. OW!" 

Harry pushed Ron roughly into his seat and covered Weasley’s mouth with both hands.


End file.
